


Albatross Addictions

by H0LYxSHiP



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Analytically Written At Times, Anxiety, Codependency, Drug Addiction, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Leaving Home, Loss of Identity, M/M, Most Characters Are Cameos and Flashback Oriented, Not Always the Kaiba You're Used To, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Duel Monsters, Recovery, Rival Relationship, Self Actualization, Starting Over, Transitioning, etc. etc. etc. - Freeform, takes place in America
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 91,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H0LYxSHiP/pseuds/H0LYxSHiP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left to emerge from the fantastical phenomenon of Duel Monsters that so surreptitiously swallowed them into the surreal, several unsuspecting characters find themselves submerged within a sea of surprising similarities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catastrophic Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is actually the first ever fanfic I attempted to write, dedicated and intended as a Christmas present to my little sister, whose fanfic account I purposely tracked down, read her YGO fics, and wrote up the start of one that night. Now. This was eh, 2011? And I was a crazy English Major, a not very grammatically talented English major. My style has remained much the same in terms of symbolism, but forgive me for my earlier attempts to turn analytical, allegorical, literary writing into fanfiction. It's actually still a work in progress, and something I revisit and am always and forever attached to. And not too long ago, and by not too long ago I literally mean like maybe a week, one of my previous readers, who had left me one of the best, in-depth, overall amazing reviews for this fic recently inspired me to go back over it and try to make little alterations and repost on Ao3.
> 
> At one point she also mentioned I have quite an unusual Kaiba, you'll notice this transformation emerge later on, but I'm absolutely in love with him lol. This fic is predominantly about existing outside the world of Yu-Gi-Oh, essentially, leaving Japan, and past lives behind in order to cope with loss or personal conflict. The disorientation of losing who you are, who you love, and who you never got to be. Connecting and coping and defying the past and present. The psychological stress and implementations of anxiety disorders and complexes and struggles with prescription drugs. The ability to transition, and the ability to coexist. ETC.
> 
> These first few chapters are fairly short, this changed as the fic grew, as you'll see if you make it that far :) Lol this is also the only story, or fic, I've ever written with ACTUAL Chapter Names, hah useless funfacts.
> 
> Anyways, this pairing is classic and forever has a place in my heart, as is this fic very special to me, so I hope there are some YGO fans out there willing to give it a shot and who can get something out it; my plots kind of different, my writing can be a little tedious at times, but overall, I think it might surprise you. (Guess I'm a little bias though lol)
> 
> Enjoy; thank you in advance for checking out chapter one!  
> (it's like three sentences long haha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> iiiiit's short. hah. feel free to ignore my author notes by the way, they're usually nothing more than me rambling and never saying anything of major importance. It's typically more so where I used to write shoutouts and comment reviews, like TO the commenters, but haha, those don't really exist for me on archive. So, my bad, you'll just see the rambles. Force of habit, I'm afraid. so yeah. skip the author notes. *echo echo echo* that is to anybody who ever looks at this fic?? haha. oh my. well. it's short, it gets good. I'm not much of a salesman. so just. yeah. author notes, meh, blehhh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, pretty short and sweet. Like I said, stayed up all night one Christmas EONS ago cause my sister told me she ALWAYS posted a new chapter for one of her YGO stories on Christmas Eve for her readers, cause she's a boss like that. So, being the devious sister I am, went on fan fiction JUST to find her profile and leave her an obnoxious comment. Since she always kept it this 'big secret' cause know one knew her account. Did NOT however realize I'd had my own account? For like 5 years already?
> 
> ANYWAYS, sat up all night, didn't sleep, read her fanfic, and was like, well shit, I'm gonna write HER one for Christmas! (you know, aka the following morning lol) So, this is what I crack-attack wrote out that night, I wwaaanna say, aye 2010? 2011? Haha alllso wasted an extra two hours like customizing really intricate nonsense edits for title art and chapter headings? Cause CLEARLY, that was top priority, lol.
> 
> Sooo, yyyeah, first few chapters are shorter than I remember, which was the point I was trying to make with my roundabout yammering; and I've been writing this over the course of a raaather long time, not to mention it was my first attempt to enter the intimidating world of fan fiction haha, so half the time I was like skittishly trying to cater to certain things before I found my balance. And I've never been happier with it.
> 
> Hope you guys will continue to check it out :) Feel free to scream at me if the grammar starts to make one of your eyes twitch, too. I do tend to favor those semicolon-connecting, paragraph long sentences from time to time. 
> 
> Thiiiink I DID make a super conscious effort to try and clean it up, but, hah, I'm already the most grammatically inept English major that ever lived, and the freeform formatting of fan fiction absolutely was the nail in my coffin. So I miss a few small things here and there. Don't worry, it's still more than sense-making, though.
> 
> hhhhookay; shutting up now. Thanks AGAIN :D

 

* * *

●(¯`·._.»⋮⋠ **Albatross Addictions** ⋡⋮«._.·´¯)

_Instructions Included. Assembly Required._

●(¯`·._(_.·´¯`·._.».«._.·´¯`·._)_.·´¯)●

* * *

Prologue: 

_The evolution of time is inescapable. This inevitability requires one to posses, or acquire, the capacity to endure transition; a transformation which estranges individuals from misconceptions in order to adapt to the uncertainties of shifting realities. LIFE may provide a predeceasing time line of incidences and understanding from which to draw parallels, but the lesson itself is not vicarious: Instructions Included. Assembly Required. Without action there can be no advance, reality loses all tangibility, thus immobilizing ambitions, and thoughtlessly rendering the vitality of humanity to a mass-manufactured massacre. Resultantly, through a series of endless subjection to the strange and insufferable consequences of experience, both Seto Kaiba and Joey Wheeler search desperately for means of escape._

_Left to emerge from the fantastical phenomenon of Duel Monsters that so surreptitiously swallowed them into the surreal, several unsuspecting characters find themselves submerged within a sea of surprising similarities. With the actualizing lenses in place, the compelling complexities of their composures comes into focus, cultivating the catalyst that will set such a controversial companionship into motion._

* * *

**|Part One: Creation|**

Chapter One: Catastrophic Circumstances

* * *

 

"So, I guess this is goodbye," Joey looked, almost absently, at the faces of his friends.

"Joey, you don't have to do this!" Tea's pleas, though meaningful, fell flat against the floor beneath their feet.

"She's right," Yugi's timid tone trembled, "we can figure this out together," he insisted, despite the Pharaoh's inner reasoning that assured him the choice was Joey's, and Joey's alone to make.

Their words tugged at this heartstrings, and Tristan's silence only made him feel increasingly worse, but his mind was already made up. He was leaving. So, with a bouffant chest, Joey swallowed the possibility of having second thoughts, and strained his eyes to withstand the tears that came involuntarily as he embraced them each one last time. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, almost inaudibly, over the P.A system of various arrival and departure flights, forcing himself towards the security console. 

**».«**

Meanwhile, as the three friends were left unable to fathom the separation, Mokuba desperately tried to dissuade his brother Seto, who sat despondently in front of an empty suitcase. Although intentionally estranged from the others, Kaiba and Joey's decisions ironically aligned.

"I know this is hard," the brunette began, as he struggled to form the proper sentiment. 

"Then why are you doing this!?" His little brother's tears formed profusely, trying in vain to step between Seto's literal and emotional baggage. 

Kaiba closed his eyes, gently pushing Mokuba aside. "This isn't debatable," the callousness in his voice was chillingly sincere.

As Kaiba struggled to sort through a myriad of miscellaneous possessions, Joey struggled to organize the thoughts that clouded and consumed him...

**».«**

_It's over_ , he said to himself, sighing and resting his forehead against the cold plastic of the plane's ten by fifteen window, staring vacantly as the place he had always called home became a distant memory.  _I can't stay, **it's over**_ , he reiterated, in order to remind himself just exactly why he decided all of this in the first place,  _we all lost so much..._

**».«**

Kaiba wore a face of frustration as the reflection of his shining accomplishments mirrored disappointment rather than pride, a feeling he seldom accepted willingly. _The tournaments, the titles, the trophies...what's the point?_  He asked himself, hanging his head, unable to mask the disgusted look that had fallen over his features. 

"Seto?" Mokuba pulled on the edges of his jacket.

"It's nothing," his brother recomposed himself quickly, answering before Mokuba could even ask, "Just lock this place up after I'm gone."

"But..."

"I  _said_  it's nothing," the tone in his voice was cold and forceful.

Mokuba winced as his head shrunk down into his shoulders, recognizing the sound in his brother's voice, he knew far too well not to pry any further. Instead, he trailed apprehensively behind the footsteps of uncertainty that echoed emptily throughout their estate, leaving his childlike features twisted as Seto's silhouette faded into the horizon. Just as quickly as Joey, his brother was gone.

Kaiba tapped his fingers rhythmically as his notions stirred inconsistently.  _It's not right to leave him like that_ , the paternal instinct in his breast beat protectively,  _but it's not his burden to harbor, I won't allow it._

Catching his reflection in the glossy finish that isolated him from his driver, Seto tried to dissuade the emptiness that carved away at his chest. Desperately depleting, his face gave away everything and nothing at the same time. The blank expression he bore was both a disguise and a revelation. On one hand, the experiences he'd internalized had masked the void he acted so avidly to avoid, but on the other, that same ambiguity acted amply as a source of clarity.

It was undeniable, he felt entirely alone—and no matter how defiantly he denounced it, there wasn't a single person who couldn't see past his defenses.

**».«**

Completely unaware of his surroundings, Joey hardly noticed the subtle shifts in scenery outside the window as illumination extinguished into darkness. Instead, he fumbled with the wires on his headphones; like everything else in his life, they had intertwined and tangled. The sound was familiar, so the lyrics came in perfectly clear, but the friction flowing through him seemed to distort the rhythm.

Still, Joey forced himself to listen, hoping to filter out his feelings through the music, but it was useless. His eardrums just refused it. Sighing, he lifted his hands up to the electric blue buds and pulled them gently from his ears, sinking back into the silence.

**».«**

Almost as soon as Joey's flight had departed from the  _Domino City Airport,_ Kaiba had arrived, feeling almost relieved as the outlines of the oncoming visual came into focus. His notions of escape manipulated the elations of his heart, convincing himself that this great vessel would swallow the sorrow forever forecasted in his skies, thinking foolishly that the relief would be instantaneous. 

"And when shall I expect your return?" His chauffeur questioned, carrying a single suitcase to the curbside check-in, and preparing his palm pilot, but Seto's response left the driver looking both concerned and confused.

"I'm not coming back."

**».«**

Digging through his backpack for some other means of passing the time, Joey's fingertips brushed against a cool surface at the very bottom. His eyes widened as he traced the rounded edges, he had almost forgotten. His wrist retracted hesitantly as he held three  _Duel Monster_  cards in his lap, pouring his soul back into the heart of the cards. 

He almost laughed in spite of himself.  _Y'know, I always understood that whole spiel, but I really never thought it would **literally**  come down to this._ _I know it sounds terribly cliche, but these cards, well, each of them are my only reminders of who I used to be. These cards are all I have left._

He fanned them out and held them closer, out of all the cards he had dedicated years of his life collecting in order to build a stronger, abler deck, he had discarded all but three.

The first was his beloved and infamous _Red Eyes Black Dragon,_ it had aided him so valiantly in his times of need that it merged itself undeniably into Joey's identity, it was apart of him. Secondly, always complimenting his strategies, was the  _Time Wizard_  Yugi had given him eons ago.  _"Here Joey, add this to your deck,"_  he could almost hear his best friend's voice, as if he was standing right there in front of him again. However, as his eyes refocused on the third, a deeper place within his heart that had long since hollowed began to pulsate. Wrinkling his nose and daring to reach out and caress its intricate structure, the veins in his heart tightened. His third and final card was nothing other than Mai's  _Harpy Lady_.

Curling all five fingers tightly into a fist, Joey had to restrain himself from punching the seat reclined in front of him; images of Valon and the Orichalcos cascaded around the card, subliminally mocking his pain. However plaguing, the idea of his companions excited the stillness of his heart, and his eyes darted back and forth, frantically inspecting every last inch of each of them so that he wouldn't miss anything. So he didn't ever have to come back and relive such anguish.

Yet, it was his thorough reconstruction that pained him the most, and the cards made his losses even more tangible than the images echoing around the emptiness. 

Joey's tear ducts couldn't even conjure a single tear, every valve in his body stopped, his blood thinned, his breathing choked, and in every sense of the word, his heart broke into a million pieces, making a mosaic of misery beneath his feet. For a final moment, the ruby specs of his eyes that swirled in and out of shades of jade and chocolate shut, revealing blank screens on the backs of his eyelids.

With great skill, and even greater memory, Joey began to piece everything back together across the mental canvas he'd created. 

_I remember the first few years fondly, back when everything was so simple. We were just a couple of friends, a couple of friends with ambition and a deck of cards. We'd never played a real match, never had any real fans, we just did it for fun, just to pass the time. We based every move on what we felt, and we practiced and played when we wanted—never had anyone breathing down our necks about absolutely **everything**. No one to tell us that our cards weren't up to par, or that our strategies were shit; nobody to criticize our skills or question our capabilities. It was just the four of us, doing  **what**  we loved best, with  **who**  we loved best. _ _But before we knew it, we had fought our way through Duelist Kingdom, victoriously prevailed from Battle City, and then lost ourselves, literally and figuratively, to the Orichalcos....it was only after **those**  duels that things got complicated. Ambition and determination blinded us, and we were so eager to sign the dotted line...after that, nothing was every the same..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah; well, on a scale of one to oh dear this was clearly someones total first attempt to write a fanfic, I hope that wasn't too bad, it's certainly too short to be TOO awful. And if I can stay awake and functioning long enough, I'm going to tack on the next chapter or two after this. Thanks again, even if you loved it, hated it, or were totally indifferent :)
> 
> (AYE; also I have a habit of using the word 'several' as meaning TWO, please try not to let this drive you too crazy, I'll attempt to edit it out as much as possible, but when it messes with my alliteration or way too attached to sentence aesthetic, I'm so very sorry, but I'm stubbornly unwilling to change it.)


	2. The Symphony of the Air Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well, I never did ANYTHING I said in my ending notes of chapter one because I crashed and burned and slept for two days. on the bright side, maybe, lol, I've spent all of today making up for it.

**Chapter Two: _The Symphony of the Air Changes._**

* * *

 

Colliding with the concrete, the wheels of the plane wavered up and down unsteadily before grounding. As Joey was forced to touch down into reality, the memory-reel slowed, and the projection of his thoughts flickered away.  _Milwaukee,_ he sighed, and opened his eyes to greet the foreign territory that he'd traded up familiarity so uncertainly for. 

The motions of Joey's feet pushing back the ground contrasted against Kaiba's immobilized posture, planted firmly in his first class seat, neither of them realizing that their fate was only separated by a matter of miles. As the once troubled youth took in the unfamiliar atmosphere with meandering meanings that twisted his stomach into knots, the CEO's composure became increasingly calm, singularly focusing on his destination. Despite the fact both boys had invested their sense of relief within the idealistic prospect of escape, for Joey Wheeler, the decision took everything, and for Seto Kaiba, the choice was effortless. Paradoxically intertwined, their ensuing journey would soon evoke endless trial and tribulation, only to reveal the reality that both had surrendered themselves to an indistinguishable providence. 

The scenic still-frames of Joey's expectations had suddenly been set into motion, his eyes latched onto the images passing by the window of the taxi in a colorful blur, everything becoming a series of lines and shapes as symmetries meshed in and out of focus. He was completely unable to secure any notion of the concrete; even the precise planning and carefully calculated relocation was merely an abstraction. Although he'd visited the country many times in his past pursuits, it was never anything he had to get used to, he had only been there by chance, welcomed as a visitor, but now he was forced to assimilate himself as he made his debut as a full fledged American citizen. 

His ambition steadily decreased, even more than it already had, as the variation between skyscrapers and suburbia was so proportionally unsound. One minute he was surrounded by highways and vast, lush greenery, the next he was suddenly submerged into a sea of massive buildings, which the taxi driver navigated in and out of with ease. Joey's eyes refocused in fascination of every detail, taking note of how just as easily as he had entered the city, he emerged onto a winding road that traced the lake front, leading the car into a series of residential, grid-like street patterns. There were virtually no parallels the blonde was able to draw between Milwaukee and Domino City, even the building structures were drastic in differentiation, the street signs and markings indiscernible in comparison, and the human to vehicle ratio completely thrown off balance. 

"That will be  _thirty-dollars_ and  _fifty-three cents_ ," the cab driver repeated a third time as he cleared his throat more rudely than the second.

Joey's cheeks flooded with embarrassment.  _We're already here you moron,_ he scolded himself, pulling out the correct currency. "Sorry about that," he wanted so badly to murmur, but had nervously over-emphasized his English, feeling more misplaced than ever. 

" _Seto K..Kay...Kayb…"_ the rotund, rosy colored immigration clerk squinted through his spectacles. 

Tapping his foot impatiently, biting his tongue from a verbal out-lashing of epic proportion, Seto reduced his reaction towards such ignorant inability, with extreme difficulty, down to a condescending correction, "Kaiba."

Intimidated by the brunette’s confidently dictating stance and flawlessly forceful English, the clerk limited eye contact for the rest of the procedure. "Welcome to Milwaukee," he spoke straight into the passport as he returned it. 

Feeding off his signature air of superiority, sharp cobalt vaults became electrically charged,  _"Look at me when you talk, you unintelligent waste of air,"_ were the words swimming around inside Seto's mouth, but he chose to engage in another directly disdainful discourse. 

After Kaiba had all his affairs in order, he began to feel far from relieved, and in place of it surfaced the feeling his pride had been degraded, and his fixed facial expressions revealed absolute disgust towards how politely he forcibly conducted himself. In Seto's eyes, such compliance with those beneath him potentiated a visual of weakness that began to take a heavy toll on his empowering self-confidence the second he landed. Emitting a primitive, Darwinian dominance had always been instinctual to Kaiba, it was a self-governing law, and going against it was like rewiring his entire outlook. Unable to hide behind the wall he had spent his entire life creating, Seto lost that sense of security, rendering himself absolutely defenseless to these inconceivable emotions. For the first time in a long time, Seto Kaiba would have to struggle to survive. 

The one-bedroom apartment seemed to settle Joey's nerves; the silence wrapped itself securely around his subconscious, smothering the sound of empty bottles shattering against walls and windowsills that he'd grown _oh-so_ -familiar to at home. Momentarily, the unfamiliar atmosphere transposed, yet thoughts of his father were insuppressible. The alcoholic fits, all those drunken disasters, but even then it was that unbearable sense of contempt that Mr. Wheeler had always shown him. It didn't matter to Joey anymore that he might not belong here, because he never truly belonged anywhere. His father never made even the slightest attempt to deny it, and the verbal out lashings freely admitted how unwanted his son had always been. Joey clenched his eyes tightly, one day stood out in particular as several surfacing memories interposed. 

_"I'm late," Mai blurted quickly._

_"What?" he asked confused._

_She inhaled, "My period. I'm late."_

_"Okay, so?"_

_"Joey," Mai said again slowly, "I'm_ ** _late_ ** _."_

_There was a sudden silence, "Fuck."_

As simple as the conversation had been, it was one that Joey could never forget. He hadn't even noticed how tightly he had begun to clutch the  _Harpy Lady_ card in his hand. As the memory merged into the next though, he released his grip on the memento, and it floated to the ground with an almost feather like motion. 

_Subdued in another substance invoked outrage, Mr. Wheeler's stance swayed from side to side, provoking his son as usual, "I don't care if that slut is pregnant or not," words slipped and slurred, "you're not going anywhere. With all the fucking shit you've pulled with me, you should be grateful, goddamn it," nothing that fled his lips was making sense, but it didn't take away from how badly it hurt. "I mean, you really think after all your screwing, and now_ ** _this_ ** _bullshit mess you've made, that I'll ever let you out of here?"_

_He could hear the concerned whimpering of Serenity trying to conceal herself crying in the next room, it was bad enough that_ ** _this_ ** _is what she had to see when she came home. Joey was emboldened as he spat back at him furiously, "Like father, like son. I'm not the only one who slept around."_

_Fiery, scarlet hues deepened Mr. Wheeler's already drunkenly flushed face as he slammed a Jack Daniel's bottle against the wall, "I will not let you fuck someone else's life up exactly like you fucked up mine."_

_"Key word_ ** _fucked_ ** _," Joey screamed, "Only you're the one who did that in this case, you should have killed me when you still had the chance."_

_"Believe me," there was a cold cackling in the way his father yelled back, "I_ ** _tried_ ** _."_

_"Then let me_ **GO** _!" Joey was hysterical._

That same cold, cruel sensation of neglect carved away in Joey's eyes, followed by forming rings of water; he didn't have anyone to get away from this time, and he had no idea where he was going, but Joey ran like hell. 

Without his staff to provide him with service, and without the luxury of his own flawless, iridescent deep blue Bentley, Kaiba took to the idea of having to walk as an insult. _What kind of fucking plan was this in the first place,_  he gritted his teeth,  _like giving up my company, my millions, my goddamn mansion just to live like...like, like fucking_ ** _Wheeler_** _was supposed to make_ ** _me_** _feel BETTER?_ Mentally, even the taste of Joey's name inside Kaiba's mouth repulsed him; and realizing he just inherited the lifestyle of his adversary made his stomach spoil.

_Jesus, I think I might be sick_ _,_ living like that insolent, idiotic, incapable, blabbering blonde bastard was worse than living  **with** him. _Besides, that is no lifestyle for someone of **my** stature, _ Seto regained a sinister smirk as he allowed the running joke of Joey Wheeler to fill his veins veraciously with vigor. Yet, despite his once again hardened exterior, re-inhabiting his old self made each passing street corner even more tantalizing, _this is humiliating, this simpleton shit, as if someone secured me on a fucking leash, casually stringing me along, just like that mutt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol well, apparently I attempted to write this chapter during a 24 hour car ride to FL, during which I kept getting headaches and mad, or so says my prior chapter notes, attempting to excuse why this ended so abrupt and randomly. Also, I just now noticed, despite the fact that General Mitchell International Airport, is clearly as the name suggests, international, the likelihood of flying into it rather than a larger facility like O’Hare, despite the destination, is rather unlikely. As well as the thought of Kaiba flying commercially. Whoops. THAT, and the fact that JOEY took a THIRTY-dollar cab ride, yet Seto is just sauntering along like the distance hadn’t been suggestively extensive; which it TOTALLY is, like a twenty-thirty minute car ride, albeit along the HIGHWAY, and according to Google Maps, which I just double checked, a mere, yyyy’know, three and a half hour walk. So DOUBLE whoops. Hah, fuck continuity! THIS IS AMERICA.  
> Ohhh god. lol


	3. The Ties That Bind Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Savor the last short chapter!

**Chapter Three: _The Ties That Bind Us._**

With a headache of mixed emotions and his fingers clenched into fists, Joey left the room hastily, feeling more perplexed and more aggravated than before; but he couldn't stay there another minute. Fleeing down the stairs at speeds that made the floorboards ache and cry, it was a wonder he even managed to breathe. Every inch of the ground was pushed down and back by the constant rhythm of his feet, a rhythm that didn't break until he was left gasping for air, his feet grounded into the pavement, unable to persist.

His chest heaved in and out against the wind of the lakefront ripping through his hair. Hunching over and placing his palms against his knees for support, Joey finally looked up to meet the atmosphere around him. In the horizon lay an infinite body of water, swallowing the skyline calmly as the sun scintillated off it softly. He stared longingly; the tangibility of how vastly it separated him was incredible. A sudden panic pulsated through his body at an alarming rate, yet against the rush of actuality around him, his features stood in a standstill. Instantaneously, he'd calmly collected his composure on top of the concrete, pouring his eyes into the picturesque; the lake was so perfect that Joey could have sworn it was painted.

The small patch of grass in front of his feet with the tagged up, turquoise colored bench became permanently fixed in his peripherals. It became a place where he felt the relief of a personal sanctuary potentiating, alleviating his troubling symptoms. His perceptions reconstructing as the fast pace pounding of his heart became ten times more tolerable. Here, the anxiety was willingly welcomed in opposition to the excruciating twisting that Joey felt inside when left standing in the middle of his memories.  

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Juxtaposing itself against the brunette, the lake reflected the blinding disdain that wavered back and forth in Kaiba’s crystalized, cobalt eyes. Sauntering along the exact same lakefront that eased Joey's suffering, the over privileged orphan felt the waves crash against his conscience, shattering his bluffing insincerity, wearing away, and revealing the vastness of his vulnerabilities.

Although, unable to properly express himself, even _to_ himself, Seto's joints locked, and the emotional indecision rendered him immobile. The mysteriously Jurassic jungle of this strange city slaughtered any sound sense of security. Prehistoric methods of survival distorted the idea of concrete, coming of age facts. Truths strangled Kaiba’s subconscious, and the infinitely unknown water stretched farther than he could calculate.

He felt trapped, and the hypnotizing hold slowly summoned him backward in time; Milwaukee began to metaphase, mirroring his memories of Duelist Kingdom. As hard as he hesitated, this was inescapable. Alone in this island-like isolation, Mokuba's eager and perceptually incapable face shot through him, and Kaiba's fingers crept involuntarily towards the locket that he wore religiously. 

_"Why are you doing this!"_

The sound of his little brother was ear shattering, and Kaiba's footsteps frantically searched for what his heart already knew he couldn't find. For the first time, notions of his selfishness surfaced.  _Did I really just leave him like that? Did I just...just get up and walk away_ ** _that_** _easily? Like my promises meant_ ** _nothing_** _?_ Tears that his eyes refused to shed mocked Kaiba resentfully, as he spent the entire night staring into the face of the silent screams of his subconscious, he shifted restlessly. 

The promise of his paternal protectiveness over his younger brother disintegrated upon admitting the consequence of his action. After a lifetime of dedication and unchallenged loyalty, Seto had thoughtlessly shot down the innocent aura of optimism that guided him, so faithfully, through his darkest hours. Blindly trying to navigate, Kaiba's instinctual sense of direction betrayed him, unable to re-trace his way back to the externally compelling forces of uncertainty that once excited him, the situation symbolically swallowed him into a senseless sea of shifting realities. Trying desperately to tether the ties he had forcibly severed, the only person in his life that ever mattered became a ghost; leaving the locket hanging heavily, like an albatross around his neck. 

_"You're not from around here, are you?"_

_Joey laughed hesitantly, his vacant eyes temporarily regaining their once transfixing vibrancy, "It's that obvious, huh?"_

_A gentle smile played across the delicate lips of the girl who had mysteriously appeared at his side. "Oh, no, of course not," she rolled her lilac-gray eyes sarcastically, a pair Joey painfully recognized._

_Flickering back and forth between vacant and aware, the angle in his smile turned down. Motionless lips found themselves struggling to return to girl's playful energy, and he realized how stupid he probably must've looked to her, but he could only find enough energy to revert his gaze, despondently, in the other direction._

_"Oh," the playful tone in her smile softened sensitively, piecing together Joey's declining expressions and detached body language, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize this was a bad time."_

_He felt badly about his off-standish reaction though, because she hadn't offended him in the slightest; and her ability to perceive his mood so naturally had actually caught him off guard, causing his eyes to widen in surprise, "No, it's okay. It's nothing."_

_"Well, it's obviously **something**." She addressed him so openly, and so genuinely, for someone who she didn't even know._

_Another attribute that drew his thoughts backward to the person he'd tried his hardest to forget, yet even still, the girl's persistence similarly provoked his response and held his attention. "It's really nothing," Joey shrugged, as the excuse rolled off his tongue with little conviction, "I was uhm, just...y'know, sightseeing. Trying to acquaint myself with the place, that's all."_

_"Oh, come on, don't even **try** to tell me that you've been standing here for the last ten minutes staring because you found the view of Lake Michigan _ **_soo_ ** _breathtaking."_

_Joey didn't know what to say, but took unexpected comfort in the stranger's confident composure, a quality that he himself was once known to emit._

_"Y'know?" she sighed, "Your English is pretty good, but your lying is for shit."_

Joey's body seemed to float back to his new apartment on autopilot, knowing not how to process exactly how he felt about the unusual circumstances of this new acquaintance.  _Although_ , he stopped to think,  _I guess she did say we're friends._ Despite the actuality the necessity of friendship had seemingly lost all meaning to Joey, he certainly wasn't going to deny the opportunity now.

Double checking first that the door was locked, Joey picked up the three, sanctified Duel Monster cards, and carried them back over towards his air mattress, collecting a sense of courage with every step. Then, sitting cross-legged on top of the disorderly bed set, he cautiously placed them face up. Even though they were all physically visible, Joey couldn't physically bring himself to look at them; instead, he sat staring absently at the cracked creases of the mental photograph of the friends he kept so close to him, images that, until now, had worn away from frequent familiarity. It was almost chilling how easily he'd forgotten their faces, and even more plaguing how readily he turned his back to them. 

Closing his eyes, Joey fell back against his pillow and drifted into another dimension of thought, but both his mind and body swore they were still awake because everything seemed so tangible—so real. An icy whisper rolled around the room, sweeping under the bed and through the shades. The temperature on the thermostat dropped significantly, and even Joey's blood was growing slightly colder as the unfamiliar shifts in surroundings continued to encase him.

A mysterious breeze, an actual breeze, that shook the cheap crystals on his ceiling light, was making its way down to the bed. The intricate images that personalized the playing cards seemed to jump to life, distorting and fluttering back and forth in the air until they stopped suddenly, and surely, on the blank spaces hidden throughout the cores of their caricatures. Golden glowing auras began to curl and curve around like cursive, and illuminating features began to appear, formulating a familiar face. It was as if she'd always been there. A soft breath nipped at his ear, and a voice began to gently speak to him, imitating Mai flawlessly, as if she was still apart of him; but even in delusion, Joey had accepted that the last time they were ever together, they stood against one another. Despite the division, his heart continued to break, yet still his hungry ears continued to listen to the sensation of her expression.

Affectionately, a soft giggle tickled his eardrums, and the whistling wind gave the illusion she was laughing, but Joey could only hear the shrieking pain and desperation that the Orichalcos had calloused into her. The image began to melt away as she lost luminosity, her voice turning into static as Joey began to drift in and out of consciousness. 

As a shrill alarm reverberated his dreams back into reality, Joey's entire body lurched violently forward, arms reaching out, trying to grab hold of something that wasn't there. "Mai!" he shouted repeatedly. Yelling her name at the top of his lungs, over and over again—but the voice that had lulled him into such a delusionary state had disappeared, and the three cards beneath his palm were lifeless.

Encased in a cold sweat, his trembling fingers fumbled to flick the wheel on the lighter until a red glow appeared and singed the tip of the cigarette Joey had extended forward. Grasping the fowl creation between his lips, he inhaled uneasily, contrastingly, exhaling smoke smoothly into a cloud that, unlike this thoughts, dissipated. He looked around uncomfortably, lighting another cigarette, trying, in vain, to smother his overactive imagination that had taken over where his dreams left off, his eyes still shifting and refocusing uncertainly on the areas around him. 

Yet, the emptiness was more disappointing, and more terrifying, than anything else he'd imagined. There was no longer anyone here for him to project his desperation of belonging onto in hopes of counteracting their own, nor was their anyone left to help him cope with his own; this time, Joey had to rely solely on himself, a strategy that, in the past, had always failed him. There was a sudden convulsion deep within the hollowed core of the lifestyle he'd long since revisited, and the nerves alone were enough to make him vomit.

_6:00 AM_ flashed across the screen on the nightstand in bright red, causing Kaiba, in a state of exhaustion, to come to terms with the fact that sleep was unattainable. Groggily, all six foot three inches of his lanky, yet impressively muscular, frame sat upright, rubbing swollen eyes with his fists. After routinely washing up and gathering his things, tired legs carried his body towards the staircase, where he was struck with a baffling and almost surreal realization. 

_Mokuba!_ He suddenly remembered his brother with urgency and guilt. Reaching inside his jacket, he felt around until his fingertips creased a small, platinum encased locket. Taking the memento from the safety spot against his breast, Kaiba just stared down in amazement.  _How could I have done this to you?_

Seto's sentimental state was insensitively interrupted though, by another tenant coming from the opposite direction, "Hey buddy, why don't you move out of the way, there's a whole lobby downstairs for you to stand in."

Instantly, eye contact with the keepsake was broken, zeroing in on the cocky, twenty-something year old standing below; and this time, Seto burst into a fit of rage, unable and unwilling to turn the other cheek. "How  **dare** you," his voice boomed, echoing through the narrow corridor, "Do you  _know_ who you're talking to you ignorant piece of shit??"

What was more shocking to Kaiba than the stranger's insubordination though, was the blank expression accompanying his response, "No?"

No progress, and half a pack later, Joey crumpled up the  _Classifieds,_ and threw the newspaper to the floor, groaning in frustration.  _Seriously, what am I supposed to say qualifies me as a potential employee? 'Oh, hello sir! I think you'll find my experience with card games to be a promising attribute! ...What's that? Never heard of Duel Monsters? How odd... Education? Oh, no! Duelists don't have time for school! We're too busy dabbling in the dark powers of Ancient Egypt! Yes, I'm very worldly; in fact, my best-friend just happens to wear a dead, reincarnated Pharaoh around his neck that occasionally inhabits his body. **Surely** you can relate?'_

Submerged into the real world, the circumstances Joey once discerned as normalcy, shattered into a series of irregularities. Everything he'd accomplished was transient, but it had taken up so much of his life that he never dreamed of things like _school_ to be such a decisive factor. Suddenly his whole life became a joke. Nothing about him, or what he'd done, meant anything, his title, as an established Duelist, didn't translate into anything substantial. Sinking even more deeply into himself, Joey felt ashamed, wishing so desperately to disappear. 

Even standing in his own apartment, he didn't feel like it was his; instead, someone else just let him stay there out of pity, as an act of charity towards something so pathetic such as himself. Like an animal that was so domesticated it lost all instinct, becoming defenseless and dependent.  _He's right...he's_ ** _always_** _been right,_ Joey's own tears became a source of weakness that belittled him further as he choked on them,  _all this time and I never saw it, but how could I not? I’m no better than…than a **dog** for chris’sake! How could I expect any sound person to take me seriously? It's exactly like Kaiba always said..._ The name rang mercilessly in Joey's ears, it burned, and echoed, and crawled everywhere underneath his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not much to say about this chapter, presently or in past tense to when it was originally posted, so I guess I’ll just paraphrase from there; essentially, what I had written down was more or less an apology for the fact "I’m pretty into developing stories somewhat realistically, so they unfold gradually," and also the fact that until this fic, I’d never written from the alternating perspectives of two characters, especially where more narration was concerned as opposed to dialogue and interaction. 
> 
> So, more or less thanking everyone for their patience, and letting them know that, at least, and I quote, "these two angsty young men are going to have quite the run-in next chapter," haha such shameless baiting on my part. Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Enjoyed? Past tense? Hope you ENJOYED; bahah. End Notes, forgot about that.


	4. Polar Magnetism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm a bum, I'm just copying and pasting my old author notes and putting them up in the summary rather than the chapter notes because I don't feel like changing that anymore (just factor out the bits and pieces, like about college and reviews, that are no longer applicable): *sorry this took so long—that is if anyone is still reading! but I AM in college lol. Regardless, thank you for the reviews that have been posted. Baha I've been a little too caught up with my sister's story—as well as the future happenings and prewritten scenes of my own to figure out how to continue it. As a result-here's thirty one pages. Hah
> 
> ...perhaps something I should apologize for in and of itself hahah, however, in attempts to limit any confusion over alternating perspectives that some of you may encounter, especially as these chapters just went from three words to THREE MILLION, I added little "- - -'s" between the switch off's from Joey to Kaiba. Should take care of that, there's only really one place at the end where it didn't ENTIRELY make sense.

**Chapter Four: _Polar Magnetism._**

As Kaiba held the slick, black cellular device between his fingers tightly, he found himself unable to spend another second alone in the apartment. He was disgusted with himself.

_"Seto...?" The faint traces of Mokuba's voice shook timidly in question when the other side of the line fell still._

_"I'm here." Is all that Kaiba managed._

_"Why haven't you called?" Mokuba whispered, the sensation of teardrops tricking in his voice, but he tried his very best to be strong. "I've been really worried about you, you know that?"_

_"I'm sorry." The response sounded almost neglectful, but it was really the crackling tone in his younger bother's voice that had tightened like a leash around Seto's neck, leaving him unable to speak..._

Denying the room around him to further constrain him, Kaiba descended down the staircase gracefully. He wasn't sure where the hell he was going to go, all he knew was that he couldn't stay there any longer. So he set forth along the Lake Front, opposite of the direction he'd taken before, his thoughts and emotions replicating the tides and currents that churned the waters so restlessly. 

\- - -

"Uhm, hi," Joey's voice filled the line awkwardly as he squinted at the name above the number in his hand, "Sam?"

"What's up Japan?"

He couldn't help but crack a smile, "Nothing really, just wondering if that offer was still on the table?"

"Of course," her voice continued to smile, "When are you free?"

"Well, hold on while I check my schedule," he exaggerated, "I might be able to pencil you in."

"Practicing our sarcasm, are we Joseph?"

"Shut up," he smiled, twisting the phone cord around his index finger.

\- - -

Kaiba continued down the winding pathway of the lakefront until he saw the increasing visual of civilization growing nearer and nearer. The isolating effect of the people he soon surrounded himself with beginning to reverse the plaguing exposure he had felt from the openness of the water.

\- - -

An hour or so later, the fiery red head stood wide eyed in Joey’s living room, “ _Wow_ , I love what you’ve done with the place,” she stared into the empty apartment.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved his hand.

“Did you just forget to pack the rest of your stuff?” she circled the room, taking note of the air mattress and suitcase set.

“No,” he twiddled his fingers, feeling slightly embarrassed, “this is basically all I have.”

She looked back at him and sighed, “You’re hopeless, now come on. My car is double parked.”

Turning his head back to the window, just for a second, the tail end of a familiar white, studded sheathing caught Joey’s eyes. And, for that split second, he could have sworn he’d just seen Seto Kaiba walking down the street. Eagerly, he jerked his head around, but the silhouette was fading fast, and as hard as those brown eyes strained against the glaring sunlight, the vision was already obscured. _There’s just **no way** , _Joey repositioned himself forward. _It’s impossible._

The unlikelihood, even the idea, conjured a simultaneous swarm of sensations deep within his core. The sounds around him became inaudible, and his visions danced through a delusion, but as hard as Joey fought, the more easily it subdued him. It was a curiosity that both attracted and repelled him: Seto Kaiba, the one man Joey had never understood, but who now, even at the slightest hint, had become the only thing that he knew in the strange place.

The distracting thoughts that encircled the blonde’s mind had left him clueless to when, or how, he had wound up stationary between the two thick, illuminating yellow lines of a parking space.

“Bed, Bath, and Beyond…?” Joey scratched his head.

“Well, you said you needed a job,” she clicked the remote control keychain to lock up the car, “And the lack of personality adoring your apartment is pathetic.”

“It’s uh, a man cave,” he glanced to the side, just to avoid the stupidity of what he’d said.

“A cave maybe,” she pulled at the edge of his jacket lightheartedly, “but we’re going to have to bring you up to date if you wanna be able to put the _man_ back into it.”

“So, again, Bed, Bath, and Beyond…?”

\- - -

As Kaiba casually sauntered through the streets, his face held a repulsed expression that caused the people around him to split apart as he approached. However, it was this air of dominance that he sought to employ. _That’s right, keep a move on._ He smiled arrogantly; _at least these Americans’ aren’t ignorant enough to realize when someone important comes into their midsts._

As the myriad of cheaply decorated store windows continued to do nothing but disgust the brunette with their cut-rate advertisement attempts, a distinguished storefront managed to catch his eye.

The prominent golden letters arched over evenly, and ran delicately down the old fashion doorway. **Peabody’s**. Kaiba stopped and assessed the _Century_ font that produced the name, and the gold-inlayed lettering brought him to conclude the high class prominence of the piano store. Being such, he entered it willingly, drawing no strange glances from the cliental inside—all of whom were tastefully adorned in precious fabrics and flamboyantly expensive prints. _Now this is a little more my speed_ , he smiled in satisfaction, making his way over to the section of elegant Grand Pianos in the back. One in particular had effortlessly caught his interest.

The model sat centered, erected on a small platform stage against the wall. And as a few other clients glanced interestedly at his movements, its clearly superior positioning only stroked Kaiba’s ego as he climbed up to the seat. _It’s incredible_ , he breathed in and out to himself in admiration, as if the Blue Eyes itself had just taken its shape. The piano was that of a distinguished design—the woodwork was impeccable and intricate. Kaiba’s captivatingly compelled auras ravished its white, high-gloss finish and the gleaming golden-blue trim. _Wonder if it plays half as well as it presents?_ He pondered, lifting up the lid to reveal its ivory keys.

Instinctively pressing down the appropriate petals and keys, he began a prelude to his past. Although this acquired taste was somewhat of a hidden talent, and something that the boy seldom revealed back home, in his youth, it was a practice, like many others, that Kaiba perfected. The thing that had stood out most, however, was not that he had mastered it so flawlessly, but the fact that, unlike most other things in this world, he had genuinely enjoyed it. So much so, that to Seto, his playing had become like a safe haven, something the CEO could lose himself to when he needed to escape his troubles. Ironically towards his bleak, demeaning demeanor, the unrivaled rapture of his delicate melodies was breathtaking.

With no hesitation, gentle sounds filled the room, capturing everyone’s attention. It was a sentimental sort of piece that he played, keeping his eyes closed as he envisioned the conversation with Mokuba, and played out the apology. He had composed it years before as a ballad for his brother, exposing the delicate emotions that he held in Seto’s heart; emotions that he had soon lost sight of how to express.

_… “Why did you leave?” Mokuba’s voice cracked in confusion, holding in the crocodile tears, continuing to be strong for his brother._

_The softness defied Kaiba’s confidence and his statement, although flat, began to falter, “I already told you Mokuba, this isn’t debatable.”_

_The younger boy, although distraught, still dug into his brother with disdain at the opening Seto had left him; and on the one hand, Kaiba had almost done it on purpose to punish himself. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear, but that’s not an answer. I said **why**. Tell me **why** you left me.”_

_“Because I had to…”_

“Ahem,” the snobbish sound interrupted the song, breaking Kaiba’s thoughts, “Excuse me young sir, but I’ll have to ask you not to play around on the merchandise.”

Frozen with infuriation, the precious memory dwindled. The motions of the boy’s fingers pulled away from the keyboard, and allowed his eyes to fall intimidatingly on the salesman in a fiery shade of blue. “Well how do you expect me to purchase something without playing it first? It could be defective.”

“Purchase?” there was a stifled laugh as the salesperson looked beyond the piercing gaze amusedly. Upon Kaiba’s entry, the man had taken notice of his distinguished dress, deciding it to be far from inexpensive, but reacted inconsiderately towards his young age. His first mistake.

“Do you not understand English? That _is_ your language, is it not?”

“Why, I never!” the man exclaimed dramatically.

A satisfied and sadistic smile crept onto Seto’s lips, “That’s right—you _never._ Now, if you’ll excuse me. You’re interrupting.”

Clearly irritated, the employee shut the cover over the glossy keys abruptly, barely missing the tips of Seto’s fingers as it clamped shut. “Young man, maybe you didn’t _understand_ me—this piano costs twenty-two _thousand_ dollars.”

“And what is your point?”

“My _point_!” the man breathed bewildered and aggressively, “—is that you wont have the money to cover any damage you may cause.” Mistake number two.

 _You incompetent moron, pianos are **made** for playing, _ he thought rationally. And so this time, Kaiba let out a conceited laugh, “Listen, that does not even _begin_ to remotely _compare_ to the figures of my salary.”

“ _Your_ salary?”

A slick eyebrow rose superciliously above his blue eyes, which took offensively to the man’s disbelieving and belittling stance. “Your ignorance insults me!” Kaiba stated eloquently, yet with great impertinence. “Yes, _my_ salary—do you think I would say otherwise if it weren’t? Now, unless you intend on stating a _relevant_ point, then I highly suggest you, _and_ your tacky, two-hundred-dollar suit, get out of my sight _immediately._ ”

“YOU’RE NOT BUYING THIS PIANO!”

His third and final mistake.

“I’ll buy this whole _GODDAMN_ store, DO YOU HEAR ME?” Seto boomed.

The man shriveled down slightly, especially as the younger boy’s height cast a condescending shadow over his own, but went completely limp as a third voice approached.

“Come now, Jenkins,” a gentleman, who later introduced himself as the store’s owner, placed a hand over his shoulder, “there is no need to accost our customers like that, now go tend to the register.”

The irate worker glared once more at Seto, gritting his teeth and stomping off out of view as Kaiba smirked satisfactorily at his victory, then turned back to Mr. Peabody, who engaged him charismatically, “So, how long have you been taking lessons?”

“…Lessons…?” Kaiba answered, obliviously to the word. “I’ve never taken one.”

“Then you mean…you taught yourself?”

“Well, yes. When I was six,” Seto recalled slowly, taken back by the other man’s personable nature. “No one ever touched the one we had back home, so I was always quite curious.”

“Well,” his face formed a wrinkled smile, “I must admit that I’m rather impressed. Your playing is really rather beautiful, and your style is very unique in its complexity,” the owner complimented.

“Uhm, thanks, I guess,” Kaiba muttered quietly, he was unsure of how to respond appropriately to such pleasantries.

“And you have exceptionally good taste too,” the owner stepped up, placing an aged hand delicately on the body of the instrument, “Steinway is one of my favorites. However,” he continued apologetically, “I’m afraid another client has already made me a rather generous offer.”

“So, you’re saying…?”

He let out a deep, almost parental sort of laugh. “Well my boy—what I’m saying is that I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there is no chance that I’m going to be able to sell this piano to you. Especially not at its asking price, my client made sure to go well and above to ensure it would still be here upon his return.”

Kaiba merely shrugged, unalarmed. “I’ll triple his offer.”

“You don’t even know what it is!” the eldery man exclaimed.

“But assuming I did,” he countered.

“Even still, just going off the store price, that’s…”

“Sixty-six thousand dollars?” Kaiba asked entertained, quickly completing the elementary calculation, “Give or take the mystery difference.”

Mr. Peabody’s fingers twiddled with temptation as he thought the sum over in his head, eyes still bulging at the price the other had left in the air. “Still…I’m not sure how I’ll explain this to the buyer…”

“Quite frankly,” Seto started honestly, “I don’t really care what you tell him. However, as a business man of my stature, I know when to make a good deal when I see one, I’d expect you to do the same.”

“So, triple you say?” the old man began rubbing his chin profitably in thought, “that’s not to mention the fifteen thousand dollar insensitive fee I was promised, which I can produce in writing, of course.” Still a little skeptical, “bringing the grand total up to an even _eighty-one hundred thousand_.”

“Plus tax,” he slipped in persuasively.

“And you’ll be able to pay this upfront?”

Kaiba smiled, “I’ll pay you in _cash_ if you want me to.”

Needless to say, he had successfully secured the deal, however that was no surprising triumph for him. If Seto Kaiba wanted something—then Seto Kaiba got it. Money was never any concern to him. He could have just as easily set more than _twice_ that amount on fire and still never even noticed it was missing.

\- - -

Joey leaned against the wall, out of breath from heaving all those bags up the stairs, Sam having leant him some extra money. “ _Jesus_ , you’re killing me!” he exclaimed, as she walked towards his bed. “Women are _dangerous_ ,” he kidded, closing his eyes, “I can see the headlines now— _Death by Design!_ Better yet, _D.O.A: Death Over Accessories._ ”

“What are these,” she knelt down observantly, collecting the three Duel Monster cards from beside the bedside table, “some sort of collectables?”

Joey’s eyes locked immediately on the vague backsides of blurring golden brown dimensions, the dark voids widening against his irises. “Give me those!” he tore the cards from her fingers quickly, “they aren’t anything,” the blonde gently cupped them in his hands, sheltering them protectively against his chest.

Sam’s own eyes widened in response, her lips parting, but not emitting any sound; however, it only took her a few moments to adapt, quickly assimilating the air of importance they must have held. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“I think you should go,” Joey’s words fled his lips faster than he had intended, and twice as harshly as he wished them to. The steady rhythm in his chest now pulsating staccato vibrations throughout the duelist’s staggering frame.

Although she was unable to retrace the tensing transformation of their conversation back to any rationally reasonable trigger, Sam respected the seemingly sensitive nature of which had affected the boy. Excusing herself with another soft apology, she let herself out, several amethyst auras falling sadly upon Joey’s face as she disappeared without protest.

The berated blonde, however, had hardly noticed the concern encircling her face; instead, Joey was too absorbed in this shivering sensation that his stomach seemed to savor. _How dare she ask about something so personal,_ he scolded with his eyes shut, even though he knew there was no way for Sam to have recognized them as anything more than they appeared to be.

For all she knew, they were simply trading cards—and under any other circumstances, Joey would have agreed. But over the years, his experiences and the intricate images had transposed indistinguishably. Feeling as if all the memories had been unwillingly exposed, Joey felt an alarming sense of panic. Fingertips traced over the fragile outlines systematically, frantic and foreboding as the pattern in his breathing heaved in and out steadily in order to regain a sense of equilibrium.

It was no use though, and neither the movements of his meandering hands, nor the methodical motions of his lungs were able to calm the collisions within his chest. In fact, Joey was hardly able to detect the smooth surface rounding the edges of the cards at all. The inability to feel sharply intensifying the alarming rate at which his heartbeat continued accelerating. Still, he upheld the ritualistic repetitions until his fingers faltered, falling inward along the flawless corner of his _Red Eyes_ that went jaggedly into the center of the card. Suddenly, both conflicted corneas shot open, intensified with the inability to fathom the visual of his precious dragon in ruins.

The other two cards fell down to his feet lifelessly. “No, _no_ ,” his heart slammed against his chest in a palpitating pattern, “not my _Red Eyes_!” Joey voiced his distress, but the only sound reaching his eardrums was the shear, scissoring of the paper tearing apart. The force he had exerted in attempts to shelter the cards from exposure having betrayed the protective intensions, leaving the keepsakes not only exposed, but in wreckage. The beastly body of the mysteriously magnificent creature now frayed and the stoic symmetry of the _Red Eyes Black Dragon_ forever disrupted.

\- - -

Feeling equally out of his element, Kaiba had retreated from the music store and down the same path he’d come from in the first place, having wandered the entire day away aimlessly, and without much recollection. There was a faint humming of crickets in the air, and the deep midnight blue skies were clear—revealing a picturesque dusting of twinkling lights that danced atop the water’s shadow. Their reflections rippling in and out of focus the same way Kaiba’s thoughts lingered back and forth between the incomplete fragments of his phone call. It was hard enough to live through the first time, but the voice in his head echoed on endlessly without concern for that.

_…“Well that’s not good enough!” the younger Kaiba cried out, “How is **that** a reason? Listen to yourself Seto!” The silence that sifted into Seto though, was far from stoic now, it was suffocating every inch of air. His voice was lost, and Mokuba began to sputter, “When are you going to be back then?” The words hesitating between whether to pose a statement or a question, “When are you coming home…”_

_The brunette’s eyelids clenched together tightly, and he could hardly even breathe. “I’m not.”_

“That’s enough,” Kaiba commanded himself verbally, taking no notice to the woman passing by who offered him a disturbing look. His highly militarized mind wouldn’t allow the rest of the conversation to advance any further. So instead, the devastating after-math chased him at the heals as the weaving waves overlapped in his mind, but as painfully as the memory tried to persist, the look on his face gave nothing away. He locked it up inside, allowing the undertow to drag it deep beneath the surface.

\- - -

But there was no current strong enough to swallow Joey. The clock on the wall began to blur, it had hardly been five whole minutes, and yet the notion of time already erased. Instead of the lifeless crystal face of an ordinary timepiece, Joey saw the mocking motions of Yugi’s _Time Wizard_ against the clock on the wall, its hands spiraling uncontrollably around against the gamble of a _Time Roulette_ that landed upon eminent destruction. Even if he played the remainder of his time out right, this was one loss that was irreversible, and his _Red Eyes_ would never again be whole. There was an undeniable divide throughout the trading card that was making a mirroring mark in his heart.

There was no longer any air in the room for his lungs to latch onto, Joey’s head became hazy and unclear, his appendages paralyzed against the forces of gravity that downwardly grounded his frame into the carpet. The deep blue pattern and wooly texture were meant to mask the hardwood floor in warmth, but the consistency caressing his cheek still felt cold. _What the fuck was all that,_ his thoughts gasped, still stunned and in a state of shock, feeling as if he’d just undergone cardiac arrest.

He couldn’t connect the happenings though, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out when he’d fallen against the floor. Yet despite the lapse in logic, despite the chain of events that had seemingly evaporated from his recollect, Joey was laying, bunched up, on the ground. Tears tensely tethered between the coarse carpet fibers, into which they cascaded from Joey’s entangled eyes that entrancingly encircled the card his fingers locked onto. His heart had regained a reasonable rhythm but Joey was certain it had exploded at one point. Bewildering breaths finally breaking against the air, staggering to swallow enough oxygen to obliterate the stationary suffocation, but upon resuscitation, all his heartbeat could do was bellow.

\- - - 

Barely breathing himself, Seto was also surrounded by an equally inconceivable situation back within the confinements of his luxurious, lakeshore residence. Yet, although his insides waged a merciless war against the memories magnifying within Kaiba’s frame of conscious, there was some sense of method behind the madness.

Self restricting, selfish reactions from his previous phone call with Mokuba reflected steadily in the anxiousness of his azure eyes. Unable to verbally admit his insensitivity had left him consumed with the intricacies of his guilty complex; and knowing nothing but the necessity of correcting and conditioning, Kaiba inflicted the agony willingly to punish himself. Allowing the cries of Mokuba to echo inside his head, the brunette clenched his eyes quietly, but resisted the desperate desire to redirect his thoughts. _I can’t believe I just left him…my only family…_

Everything slowly flooded. His aching heart muscles strained against the unfamiliarity of his emotions, and the stressor caused an incalculable acceleration of adrenaline that exhausted all of his energy. Forcibly fashioning the phases of his self induced hysteria, Kaiba willed his aching orbs to open next, but inhumanely forbid himself from crying as his fingers crept up to the locket. The sterling silver chain felt like an asphyxiating anchor around his neck, but the progression of Kaiba’s movements remained constant until positioned around the frame.

Rather than lift I upward, allowing himself to breathe, he strained the chain outward until it practically choked him. Yet there was an almost pleasant quirk in the painful angle of his fragilely formulating frown as Seto’s eyes forcibly furrowed to face the still-frame that lay beyond the clasp. A small, inaudible _click_ filled his ears, and the custom cardholder unfastened, revealing the raven-haired silhouette of his younger brother. Two bright blue, indigo orbs that appeared to be tinted over ever so slightly in amethyst shot up into Seto’s, allowing their own fierce vibrancy to fall soullessly into shadows as he cast them over Mokuba’s remorsefully. He could never, and _would_ never, willingly bring himself to forgive such a neglectful abandonment of the promises he’d so thoughtlessly broken.

Although terribly flawed, Kaiba saw no other way to justly discipline his actions than by plaguing himself mercilessly, constantly reminding himself of what he had done, and recreating the devastating sensation with visual accompaniment. It was a kinesthetic kind of learning, which he had to systematically carry out in a continuous fashion until the lesson imprinted itself inside the hollowness of his heart. The wavering weakness of rendering his emotions, willingly, to exposure, combine with the countermeasure of evoking such earsplitting internal cries, is what incrementally assessed the endless cycle. The deeper the painful burrowing, the more effectively the lesson proved—and the more agonizingly he exerted forbearance against emotional alleviation, the more learnedly he lesson was applied.

The session would not commence until Seto left himself thoroughly fatigued, until his eyes burned and his throat metaphorically bled with the same intensity he forcibly conditioned himself to uphold throughout his childhood. Despite the fact he tortured himself, it was necessary to develop such defenses while living under Gozaburo’s roof all those years. To ensure Mokuba’s wellbeing, he had to dehumanize his own—and their stepfather’s rendition of parenting made it all the more applicably easier to self instill.

After an hour of endless repetition, battling his own will against his restraint, Seto sank into himself; and satisfied with the resultant procedures, finally called off the vicious attacks. Feeling the iciness compose his heartache accordingly, he sighed and slipped between the covers, mixing ice cubes calmly in his tonic before letting the liquid splash, refreshingly, down his throat.

Sighing, he twisted the switch next to is bedside to dim the lights, pulling his laptop out of his briefcase, and calmly corresponding to his corporate affairs. Emotionally unaffected, his eyes were fixed lifelessly on the dim illumination of the screen, and it was business as usual. Letting his fingers glide over the keyboard unerringly, as if nothing else had even happened.

\- - -

As he lay awake in his bed, Joey couldn’t help but replay the events of the day over again in his head. Centralizing mainly around these alarming and devastating spirals he began slipping into lately. _It’s just not normal,_ he shook his head, pulling the cigarette from his lips, and exhaling slowly. _I’ve never felt so out of control in my life; to be honest, it’s kind of starting to scare me. I thought getting away from everything was going to be good for me—couldn’t wait to put myself back out there—y’know, reestablish myself somewhere where nobody knew me._ He sighed in again gradually, and flicked half a cigarette into the ashtray.

It was still relatively early he concluded, turning over onto his side with his cellphone resting against his palm. Joey was still plenty upset over his _Red Eyes_ , but regardless of its importance, _it’s still just a card. A piece piece of paper_ , he rationalized, _it’s the idea behind it that’s important, and I can’t believe that I just **screamed** at her. And after she’s clearly gone out of her way to make me feel more comfortable here. _ Joey frowned as he continued to conclude how out of character he’d really become. _I would never yell at Yugi or Tristen like that…and it’s not like she sat there and tore the card up herself—that was my fault. What’s **wrong** with you Joey?_ He began asking himself. _You’re acting like fucking Kaiba for god’s sake._ The idea alone made him cringe, just the thought of turning into someone as arrogant and insensitive made his blood boil in disgust.

Knowing there was no other way he was going to clear his conscience, he began to dial up Sam so that he could apologize for how outrageously he’d acted that afternoon. Sitting up in his bed patiently, balancing the phone between his head and his shoulder, he lit another cigarette to calm his nerves. It’s not like he thought she was going to be furious, or that the idea of apologizing was going to be difficult, it was the fact that he knew he’d have to explain himself that made Joey nervous. _But honestly,_ he rationalizes once more, _how can I possibly expect to move on with my life if I can’t even talk about fucking **trading cards**? All I even would have to say was that they were something that reminded me of my friends, back home. Why did I have to make that so fucking hard? _ Although his logic continued, it was interrupted when Sam’s voice filled the line.

“Joey?” she asked, not quite as hesitantly as she had back in his apartment, but not quite as enthusiastically as she’d answered that morning either.

“Hey Sam,” he forced himself to cut straight to the point, “Listen I just, well, I just wanted to apologize for this afternoon. I didn’t mean to act like that.”

She let out a small laugh, “It’s okay, it’s _pretty_ obvious I overstepped some personal boundaries.”

“No,” Joey shook his head, even though she couldn’t see that through the phone, “It was me who was overstepping.”

“Does that mean you’re going to tell me what those were?”

Joey inhaled deeply, hesitating only because he suddenly felt embarrassed again—telling a complete stranger that your life used to revolve around being a professional card game player, and not the kind that initially came to mind, probably wasn’t the most impressive way to tell somebody you spend the last years of your life.

“It’s okay,” she spoke up again, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Nah, it’s not that, I was just overacting earlier, that’s all. They’re just cards. It sounds kind of silly, but they’re just kind of like reminders,” Joey laughed, even though nothing about what he’d said was even remotely funny. The laugh was more like a nervous habit he’d formed over the years, always using his sense of humor to downplay a situation.

Somehow she seemed to understand this though, even without really knowing anything about him at all. “Of your friends you mean?”

“Yeah, actually,” he felt somewhat surprised with how effortlessly she could see right through him.

She breathed out slowly, “Are you ever going to tell me about them?”

Joey fell silent for a moment, _I guess I didn’t realize how closed off I’ve been_ , but it was still hard for him to just start spilling his life story. “I…I don’t know,” he mumbled unconfidently, however, it was a little easier for him to gather his thoughts over the phone rather than in person. “It’s just kind of hard to figure out where to start…” he trailed off once more.

Sam’s amiable tone began to fill in his blanks, “That’s completely understandable, you’re a long way from home Joey, I wouldn’t expect the transition to be that easy.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, beginning to realize that maybe being so far from home was actually what had been making him so hostile after all. “I guess, well, I just left a lot behind in Japan.”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” she laughed, although spoke sincerely and not sarcastically, “you left your whole life behind.”

Joey dragged his cigarette again thoughtfully before responding, it was almost scary how easily she seemed to understand how he was feeling. _And even though all those friendship speeches got kind’ah obnoxious,_ Joey grinned, thinking back to Tea, _it’s kind of nice to have someone else like her around who’s so in tune with people’s emotions._ And for a second, he almost forgot that it was really Mai that Sam had originally reminded him so much of.

“Listen, it’s not that late,” she offered, after Joey failed to say anything in return, “I can come back over if you want?”

“That’d be nice actually,” he decided aloud, figuring maybe having some company really would cheer him up.

“Okay, well just give me like twenty minutes and I’ll come by. Besides,” the tone of her voice grew somewhat playful, “I think I might have something that’ll cheer you up, Japan.”

A nervous churning conjured in his stomach though, as her image reverted back to Mai’s again, and Joey’s head took her intentions five miles in the wrong direction. “Uhm…”

“Don’t worry Joey, I’m not gonna try and fuck you or anything, get your head out of the gutter,” she laughed, seemingly detecting the confusion coming from the blonde. “Let’s just say, it’s more of an _herbal_ remedy.”

“Herbal remedy?” Joey spoke aloud and befuddled, “Ya’ mean like…tea?”

“Oh my god,” she snorted, “you really are so much more precious than you realize. No, I’m not bringing you tea, you moron. Although,” her voice trailed off, “I guess you _could_ use it for that if you really wanted…”

“I’m lost,” Joey shook his head.

“Perhaps it’s a cultural difference,” she posed, somewhat questioningly to herself, “But I’ll be over soon—maybe we can mark this as the first step of your Americanization!”

After hanging up the phone, Joey got up from his bed and began to prepare his apartment a little more appropriately for having guests. Starting with retrieving the Duel Monster cards that still lay on the carpet, _no need to call anymore unnecessary attention to you guys,_ he concluded, picking them up and placing them within one of the zipper pockets on his backpack. Next, he cleared away the mess of ashes he’d left around his bed from anxious chain smoking, then changed into something else than just his boxers. _Probably might come off a little suggestive,_ he laughed to himself, slipping into sweats and a black t-shirt.

Around 10:30, almost precisely twenty minutes later like she’d promised, there was a knock on his door. After letting Sam in, and getting situated, both of them sat pretzel legged on Joey’s bed across from one another.

“So,” Joey started off the conversation, for once the look in his eyes was somewhat normal, as opposed to the dreary, downcast gaze that had so routinely filled them as of late. “What is this solution you talked about earlier supposed to be for exactly?”

“Well, Japan, I’m glad you asked,” she smiled, digging through her purse to retrieve a small zipper pouch, not yet revealing its contents. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to spill out your whole life story to me or anything, but I’m a pretty observant person. And, well, I’ve noticed that ever since I met you, you’ve seemed pretty tense.”

“I’m not tense!” Joey spoke up defensively, the word immediately associating with Kaiba. _Hah, I am nowhere **near** as rigid as moneybags. _

“Oh relax, are you on your period or something?” she rolled her eyes, “I just meant that you look like you’ve always got a lot going on in that big blonde head of yours is all. It’s not a bad thing, I just think you need to learn how to relax a little more. After all, you are like, what? Almost twenty hours away from home?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey shrugged, even though he knew she was dead on as usual. _I’ve hardly been able to keep a consistent mood since I got to this place_. “Guess I’ve been feelin’ a little trapped in my own head lately.”

“Exactly,” she nodded, beginning to reveal the mysterious miracle cure from inside the smaller bag she’d retrieved earlier. “And, I don’t know how you guys relieve stress back in Japan…”

 _Hah, card games,_ Joey laughed to himself.

“…but here in the states, we have a lot of relaxing extracurricular activities. And, since you didn’t strike me as the _go out and get involved_ type, I figured maybe you’d enjoy one of my, more laid back, personal favorites.” She reached in and pulled out a small, blown glass device of alternating black, white, blue, and red swirls. Joey recognized the device immediately with an amused grin, but she continued without picking up on the cue. “Hopefully you wont be offended,” she laughed, pulling out a ziplock bag that held a very distinct aroma, “but I find that a big ol’ bowl pack can cure just about anything.”

Joey continued to assess the bag of weed sitting on her lap next to the pipe, allowing himself to take a deep, subtle breath, that filed his nostrils with a rather potent blend. “Y’know, just cause I’m from Japan doesn’t mean I’m a total moron,” he grinned, “contrary to popular belief, we _do_ know about more than technology.”

“Well, I didn’t say that, now did I?” Sam corrected him humorously, “Besides, don’t you know that us ignorant Americans’ associate that stereotype with the Chinese?”

“Oh my god,” Joey covered his face with his hand, “That was terrible.”

“And so is your ability to detect sarcasm,” she flashed a toothy, mocking smile.

Joey sighed, “As you keep tellin’ me.”

“But anyways, clearly you’re aware of the wonderful world of marijuana, but have you ever actually smoked before? I mean, obviously, I don’t want to keep busting it out if it’s not really your thing.”

“Can’t say I’m a big stoner or anything,” he shrugged, “But yeah, I’ve smoked before, believe it or not, I used to be in a gang when I was a lot younger,” he laughed softly without realizing how easily he’d disclosed such a personal aspect of his life.

“A gang, huh?” she raised her eyebrows, “I can’t say I pegged you for that sort of thing.”

“Hah, well, let’s just say it wasn’t exactly the most conventional gang, at least not compared to what you’re probably thinking.” _Doubt beating the shit out of people with yo-yo’s is equivalent to the Latin Kings_ , Joey though amusedly, reflecting back on his reckless years.

“Well let’s hope not, last thing I need to do is get shot,” she stated sarcastically. “So, you down to smoke then Japan?”

Joey narrowed his eyes, “Well, I’m not sure if _Japan_ would like to smoke, but I know that _Joey_ wouldn’t mind.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she waved off the nickname she’d grown somewhat accustomed to using, “but I’m glad, I mean, like I said, I don’t really know how frequently you’ve done it, but _trust me_ , I really think it might help you ease into this whole transition a little better.”

Although he’d never been partial to the idea of drugs, this particular substance was one that Joey believed didn’t fall under the category of ‘ _drugs’_ —it was just a plant. It’s not like he was blowing down lines of coke like he’d see some of his other, former gang members’ intake addictively; plus, he was curious to remember how the effects settled into his blood stream as he reached out to retrieve the bowl Sam had packed and extended forwards.

 _After all_ , Joey stared down thoughtfully, as he placed the pipe between his lips, _it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten high. I had to cut back after awhile. I mean, despite the fact it **did** add to the overall experience of holographic, three dimensional, mystical monsters, it posed a challenge to strategizing throughout a duel._ So, with his lighter aimed carefully, cornering one of the edges, as not to waste all the ‘greens’, he flicked his finger across the wheel and inhaled deeply.

As the thick cloud of smoke gathered in the chamber, he removed his finger systematically from the clear-hole, and sucked down the rest of his hit before handing it back; carefully holding it in for a good minute or two, trying to zero it out before releasing again.

“Like a champ,” Sam remarked approvingly, mimicking the same motions as Joey.

The two of them continued to repeat the process for a few bowl packs straight before Sam finally went back home for the night, making sure to leave Joey a few pre-rolled joints in case he needed another quick fix.

Inhaling deeply, with another cigarette resting in his hand, Joey leaned back comfortably in his bed as the alternating effects of the toxin sifted more deeply into his blood stream. His high had set in almost immediately, and even more pleasantly than he remembered, and the more it kicked in, the more it kicked out all of the undesirable thoughts that had been plaguing him lately.  In fact, Joey found himself not thinking at all, not about Mai, or his _Red Eyes_ , or Japan—none of it. Laughing and relaxing, completely absorbed with the cigarette smoke rings he blew, effortlessly, above his head. He was absolutely elated, finding his mindset lingering back into a setting he recognized. And despite the shifting smoke screen that obscured his slanted, blood shot, ruby eyes, Joey was seeing everything clearly.

…Or so he thought.

\- - -

The next day, the rays of sunlight crept slowly through the blinds, cleansing Seto’s mind completely of the previous day; besides, he had official Kaiba Corp. business to adhere to today, and therefore could not allow himself to be distracted. Joey on the other hand, had reverted to the exact, exasperating way he had been the last, the absence of the toxin having welcomed all those bad thoughts back into his mind. And the alternating mental atmosphere had morphed his dreams into an irreconcilable blend of nightmares.

\- - -

Joey distanced himself the entire day. Although temporarily distracted, he found himself sulking back into the stagnation of his sobriety. Sam may have acted as a distraction of sorts to the inevitable loneliness of starting over, but at the same time, her striking resemblance to Mai made it almost impossible to forget everything he’d run so far away from. Alone in his apartment, with both legs pulled into his chest, Joey found the silence hugging him closely. _I can’t do this,_ his voice trembled, involuntarily clenching his fingers even more tightly into the denim of his jeans, a salty serum hovering around his eyelashes.

The blonde tried desperately to dissuade the outburst, and his shoulders shook vulnerably under the weight of his wailing. Each stifled cry muffled as Joey pressed his eyelids deeper and deeper into the fabric, contracting his stomach muscles helplessly when his weathered frame continued to cascade, contemptuously down onto the floor. As if some invisible force had demagnetized the duelist’s defenses, Joey struggled to pull himself back upright. In all his life he’d never felt so helpless, with absolutely nothing left to ground into for support.

 _They’re gone_ , Joey reminded himself over and over again, with both fists tangled through a mess of golden hair. _They’re all gone—I don’t need them—I’ve never needed **anyone**. _ The negativity consuming him as he began to find a sort of empowerment, damning everything and everyone around him. _They just leave…they always leave._ Joey’s breath went jagged against the out of sync rhythm of his chest. _Even Mai…she’s gone…_ “She’s dead.” He found himself paralyzed, it was the first time he’d ever said it out loud. The words of acceptance should have filled him with relief, he finally said it, she was never coming back, he couldn’t save her, it was never his choice to crossover.

But they didn’t.

_The ceiling began to chip away like picturesque flakes of paint falling from the walls. The floorboards beneath them splintered, and the extinguishing cries of The Great Leviathan erupted as the legendary beast elevated lifelessly above their heads. The Pharaoh shielded his eyes against the turbulent tremors that tore down the room around them, and Joey’s face, although still frozen in stone, began to regain feeling somewhere out of body; his soul suddenly becoming swallowed into ultraviolet auras as the room burst into flames._

_As the explosive entities trapped systematically, adorning Dartz’s stone slab, became malleable and the magma melted away their restraints; hovering above in a decaying dome of emerald incandescence, the causalities of the orichalcos gleamed celestially around him. Floating centripetally overhead, the inevitable forces of motion and gravity spun their shapes, pulling them back towards the flickering flames of rebirth. Yet, as each individual absorbed the reflections of the other, the incarnation of quintessence that defined and distinguished them became contravening. Lost to a void, they had forcibly abandoned much more than just bodily experience._

_Still partially frozen, Joey found the completion of his metamorphosis obsolete as images of Yugi, Kaiba, Mai, and even Valon paralleled his peripherals. He could hear the deep and distant echo of the Pharaoh’s voice wandering eminently in and out of his ears as the final phase left them oscillating between the combustious embers. The discretion was an unspoken understanding amongst the duelists—to rise from the ashes, or to become forever entrapped in endless light. Regardless of the opportune direction that Kaiba irrefutably advanced towards, Joey’s gut tangled in question; no matter what he chose, both extremes burned the very air in his lungs, and he choked to find any silver lining amidst the hellacious horizon._

Joey’s fists balled up tensely as he struggled to relive the vividly surreal footage of the single moment that had successfully broken him. Despite the pulse that still violated his pleading veins, part of him died that day.

_Detecting a rhythm beneath his breast, Joey’s heart took off running, how could they ever go back so easily after everything they’d just been through? His eyes were drawn unexpectedly to Kaiba’s, which looked back at Joey’s hesitance in disbelief, and for a moment, almost concern. In those few seconds, Joey developed an agonizing twist in his heart that he hoped the other boy wouldn’t recognize; in all his life he had never felt a single bone in his body go soft at the sight of Seto. His indigo eyes seemed to electrify against the scarlet shadows of Joey’s own. And for the first time, the blonde became transfixed with the executive; he both deeply admired and envied Kaiba’s sense of courage and unerring confidence._

_“Come on, seriously Wheeler,” the feeling dimmed as Kaiba rolled his eyes, “please tell me that even **you’re** not stupid enough to stay.” Even a breath away from death, and the other’s disdainful expression hadn’t changed at all. _

_Joey stuttered, but didn’t speak._

_“Yeah Joey,” Yugi glanced back, “it’s time to go home.”_

_“C’mon mate.” Even Valon had spoken up awkwardly from behind, Joey had almost forgotten he was there. “This is no place for the likes’ah you, ‘never give up,’ rememb’ah?” his former enemy spoke genuinely. “You taught me that.”_

_“But,” Joey whispered silently, as the seconds left to decide drew to a close. He was about to protest, feeling weak and exhausted, when a warm hand slid affectionately through his fingers, “He’s right Joey.”_

_Suddenly everything froze again, and even Joey’s pulse dropped; the sound of Mai paralyzed him, and shivers chased her voice down his spine. In all this time, he’d been terrified to look back at her, even holding eyes with Seto Kaiba had been effortless compared to the idea of finally re-meeting Mai’s. He didn’t need to verbalize that for her though, she already knew, so instead Joey’s fingers tightened around hers, pulling Mai ever so slightly into him._

_Locks of her hair fell around his shoulders as she held her face delicately against the back of his neck. A slightly reassuring sensation crept back into him, but as soon as he built up the courage to face her, Joey’s entire world shattered against her words, “But I can’t go with you this time,” her voice was pained, but her face was sincere. Everyone else was thrown into a deeper silence, and even Valon bore a look of surprise, yet softened slightly towards Mai, because unlike the others, he understood why._

_Joey’s eyes searched through hers, ruby sparks that were flickering away pleaded for an explanation, and his reaction to the calmness of her composure came in a blur of emotions, shifting in his facial expressions as the disbelief subsided. Mai watched him patiently as his eyebrows fluctuated back and forth from infuriation and immense distress. “Mai!” the tone of his voice cracked spitefully, “How can you say that to me!? After everything…” his throat was swelling under the pressure of his words, “I don’t…I just…why Mai…”_

_She sighed heavily, still holding his hand more tightly than before, “I’m tired Joey,” her eyes strayed sideways to the view beneath them, and Joey’s features began to soften, he couldn’t bear to see that lifeless look flooding into her eyes again._

_Neither of them said anything for a moment, but Joey refused to accept the reality of this. His chest heaved and his eyes burned, every confirmation she gave him was like glass in his ears._

_“It’s okay,” her voice, although small, had regained the confident vigor she’d lost sight of before, “Don’t ask me to try and explain myself. Please, trust me Joey.” Her eyes poured into him as she repositioned both hands around his abdomen that tightened and clenched. Even free from the orichalcos, Joey understood that she’d been through hell. Bringing him into a tender embrace, she took the words right out of his mouth, “It’s just too much Joey,” her tears were almost calloused._

“God damn it,” he cursed in Japanese, slamming his fist against the dresser as he got up, too aggravated to just sit there. Pacing around the pattern on the carpet, Joey encircled the apartment; it was supposed to be his escape, but now it felt more like a prison. How was he just supposed to forget her? To just let go of the woman he promised he would stand by unconditionally? The guilt was unbearable.

Lighting up a cigarette with tremoring hands, his back melted down the doorframe, and into a puddle on the ground, crying just a little with his palms running down his face. “I guess that was my problem from the beginning though, I didn’t _do_ anything,” he concluded with a terrible laugh. _Poor Mai,_ he envisioned Marik haunting her footsteps—the orichalcos draining her—and that’s when Joey really started crying. _She had to deal with that monster all by herself, how could I have not seen that coming? It was so obvious,_ he continued to mentally harass himself, _I mean, come **on** , all those looks she gave me, how the hell did I not prevent this? All the signs were right there in front of my face. This is all my fault; I should have known sooner. I just, I just **should** have…_ he shut his eyelids painfully.

_“You can’t save everyone Joey,” she was looking up, trying to smile for him, but something about her had never recovered._

_The blonde’s face was pained, knitting his eyebrows as his lips visibly trembled. He was falling apart, and everyone could see it, but even the heartlessly superior Seto Kaiba let Joey be, seemingly no longer concerned with the short time they had left to embark. However, Joey also knew that their window was growing smaller, but he just couldn’t let her go._

_Valon went to speak up in her defense, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth; yet, little did he know how crucial his silence turned out to be. Joey’s eyes were painted red, but he couldn’t bring himself to cry when he traced Valon’s expression back to hers; they both looked into the face of death so calmly, almost peacefully. The idea of eternal slumber seemed to sparkle, even in their hollowed eyes, and despite their strengths, the look of determination in Valon and Mai was the opposite of what he’d seen in Kaiba’s gaze. Joey tried hard to accept that their fates had become metaphysical; the others and himself had survived the throttle of Dartz’s madness, but Mai and Valon had lived it. This wasn’t anything he could experience vicariously. Isolated so deeply in this war had caused Mai to transform long before this, and she could no longer identify with the actions of man._

_“I’m not going without you!” he exclaimed protectively, lifting Mai up into his chest._

_She had both arms wrapped just as tightly around his neck, “I know,” her face aligned softly with his, “that’s why I already decided, so that you don’t have to.” Words of protest built in his chest, but she knew him all too well, silencing his pleas tenderly as her lips beckoned his one last time. “I love you,” she ran her fingers affectionately along Joey’s cheeks, trying to soothe his worried looks. “And if you really want what’s best for me—”_

_“Of course I do—”_

_“Then let me go.”_

_Unable to deny her, Joey closed his eyes and held her for the last time, hardly able to uncurl his fingers when she told him that it was time. At that moment, Joey thought he was going to collapse, his heart rolled over in his stomach, and he stood motionlessly as the walls around them caved in. He was a breath away from chasing her shadow as it scintillated through the splintering light, when a strong hand fell awkwardly on his shoulder. “Come on Joey,” Kaiba said quietly, turning the younger boy away. The warmth from his fingers startled Joey though, and he was quick to hide his tears, but to his own astonishment, all he heard the brunette say was, “It’s okay Wheeler.” The compassion was short lived, but astounding at the same time as Joey found strength transferring over from Seto’s stoicism. Standing in the rejuvenating rays, just a white picket fence away from the conspiring clouds, he felt the plastic plasma melt into warm currents, and the restraints of preposition loosen into flexible joints._

_However, something inside Joey cracked that day, but didn’t totally break, constantly withdrawing into himself as Mai became nothing but a memory. Although he tried hard to embody the boy he once was, something in his eyes was never the same. He was now forced to develop the understanding that Mai already discovered: once you go to hell and back, you never fully leave that place. Charred remains will gasp for oxygen, heaving just to breathe, but the flames will continue to engulf all their strength. Elements of ourselves become lost to the void—not erased—but burned into the ashes of disappointment, realization, and ultimately sacrifice. These pieces of us are then left to float, indistinguishably, through the air—for our own eyes are too low, too discouraged and weak to pierce through the profuse smog that now smothered Joey’s ambitions._

Burying his head deep in his palms, his fingers dug into tuffs of blonde hair, scratching the top layer of his scalp. His radio was lulling in the background, and he could catch a few reverberations between his heaves. He tried his best to suppress the steady flow, knowing it wasn’t the _manly_ thing to do, but the tears were beyond his control. Joey’s radio, likewise, did little to console him—only offering the most horrifically, untimely selections to dress his open wounds.

As the steady melody connected with his eardrums, Joey recognized the song immediately, and let out another sarcastic laugh, “Well that’s just bloody perfect.” The irony was god awful as the words wretched salt into his cuts, lulling Joey’s mind into insanity with the lyrics of _Your Ex-Lover is Dead_ by Stars.

He couldn’t help it, everything about the situation was horrible, and he was an absolute wreck. Joey couldn’t even help but continue to think that what happened to Mai was mostly his fault. Even worse yet, he abhorred even the sight of himself for never noticing after all that time. He was consumed with guilt, with the self-disdain that he was too busy to see that there was something _wrong_ with her. Even though it was in the past, he couldn’t let it go; no, he _refused_ to let it go.

Joey was dancing dangerously close to the deep end, and these catastrophic new circumstances were _not_ going to help him heal with all the horrible things lingering over the horizon.

\- - -

_“…Live through this, and you wont look back…It’s nothing but time and a face that you lose. I chose to feel it—and you couldn’t choose…”_

Unable to ever create the connection, Kaiba’s acoustic system echoed the ending of the melody, but it had a curiously coincidental affect. Reminding Seto without warning of the things he’d been sacrificing his entire life.

_“…Here’s one thing I want to say, so I’ll be brave…you were what I wanted, I gave what I gave…I’m not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry it’s over, I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save…I’m not sorry there’s nothing so save…”_

Sighing, Kaiba turned off the station, preferring the silence to such noise. The temporary silence, however, was interrupted with the periodic chirp of his phone across from his workstation. Curiously, Kaiba picked it up, clicking a random button to brighten the screen, but as soon as he read whom the missed call was from, he wished he hadn’t. _At least there isn’t a voicemail_ , Kaiba placed his hands over his face disquietingly, but the twisting in his stomach began to submit painfully and his throat went dry. His fingers, although immobile, were itching to play. Three days was just too long to wait for it, and he couldn’t take another mental beating. With that, Kaiba recalled the piano store owner’s advice: _“Y’know, it’s not really the most fancy place in town, but they have a piano there,” the gentleman offered as he took the check. “It’s part of their appeal you see, they offer live music, and often times they’ll let anyone participate.”_ The door of Kaiba’s apartment slammed before the thought could even finish.

In a matter of minutes, he had entered the establishment and gained a spot within that night’s line up, ordering a bourbon on the rocks to ease himself. _That guy was right, normally I don’t think I’d submit myself so willingly to a place as classless as this,_ Seto’s lip pulled upward at the sight of the dirty floors and ungodly aroma of cigarettes and alcohol. He sighed, pulling his own pack smoothly from his coat pocket, still dressed in his business formal— _Guess I shouldn’t be so hypocritical_ , he sighed a second time, flipping up the top of his zippo to singe the end of his Marlboro.

Patiently waiting for his turn to perform, Kaiba hadn’t broken eye contact with the stage. He licked his lips eagerly, nearing the completion of his forth drink. However, tolerance was that of a specialty, and so Seto hardly noticed the alcohol rocking back and forth in his empty stomach as he finally heard his name, although butchered by the announcer, beckoning him forward.

The steps creaked beneath his shoes, then gracefully filled the empty space on the black bench, where his thoughts began collecting immediately as he adjusted.

_…The stammering silence echoed disbelievingly in Mokuba’s voice, “…wh…what did you say?”_

_“I said I’m not coming home,” Kaiba said forcefully, his tone falling cruel and professional. But he had no other choice than to compose himself._

_Mokuba was bawling, and the tender tone twisted around in Seto’s stomach. The hot tears were gushing through the phone, pooling around his feet as his brother began to cry out hysterically, “You…you can’t mean that! Why did you have to leave!?” the voice cracked ever so slightly on each syllable, “Why can’t you come **home**!?” little breaths began to hyperventilate, staggering, backward and forward. “Please, **please** come home Seto!”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“But you **promised**!”_

Finally familiarized, long, fragile fingers filled the same spaces along the keys as they had the previous day, and the chatter of onlookers became white noise. Blind to the audience around him, the emptiness cloaked his view of reality, and Seto nestled up comfortably to the darkness. Everything, himself included, began to disappear. _You’ll never know how much this hurts_ , Kaiba could hardly admit it to himself, _but I’m sorry Mokuba._ His lids turned downward, and his fingers assumed position. _I hope one day you can understand, and I hope one day you can forgive me,_ he treated the warped keys delicately, despite the fact their quality was nothing special—the song was sacred.

\- - -

Joey’s silhouette lingered along the lakefront, letting the rhythm of its waters rock him back and forth, leaving him in some sort of hypnosis. His hazel eyes had gone calm, and his lungs thickened with the sweet smoke of sticky THC. As the substance swallowed his central nervous system, his lids went heavy and slanted. After remembering that Sam had left him with a couple joints, Joey had gotten belligerently baked, feeding off the high. The inconsistencies in his life vanished, and everything was only perceivable in its simplest form. He did not think about the way his feet were falling, or the foreign faces passing on either side of him. Intoxicatingly entranced, the sweet sounds of a gentle instrument and the low humming of voices became magnetic, and their soft reverberations lulled him down the steps of a dimly lit basement.

Absentmindedly, the blonde moved in motion with the song as the weed left his situational awareness completely disabled. Joey stared up bemused, but couldn’t help allow an ambiguous angle to fold up in the corner of his smile. Dragging coolly on the end of his cigarette, he breathed in the sight of Seto Kaiba in a smoky, second-class music bar on the wrong side of the red carpet. This was no place for Mr. Executive, and anyone here in their right mind could see that. However, tastefully dressed in his usual attire, Seto seemed to offset the stereotype with his playing.

Joey leaned back against the bar on both elbows, and watched his adversary’s steady fingers glide over the keyboard with poise, producing a melody that was surprisingly pleasing to the ear. _Never took him for the goddamn Piano Man_ , Joey shook his head, growing increasingly more amused and slightly empowered by the sight of Seto subjecting his softer side to public recognition. _Guess he never expected anyone to recognize him here._  However Joey maintained a diplomatic distance throughout Kaiba’s performance; unlike a certain someone, he actually held a degree of respect for those around him. _Besides_ , Joey noted, _he’s not half bad._ Never once realizing that this _wasn’t_ Japan anymore, the idea that the brunette _shouldn’t_ be there never surfaced inside his clouded state of consciousness.

As Kaiba finished gracefully, he stood up to receive his acknowledgement from the crowd; they might not have noticed how entirely misplaced he looked in his five-thousand-dollar pinstripe suit, but Joey couldn’t let it go. Staring down Seto as he took his subtle bow, he assessed Kaiba’s cool exterior, dressed to impress, his suit perfectly pressed, jacket draped tastefully over his shoulder, and a silk black tie hanging a tad bit too loose for Seto Kaiba’s usual stance, but that same prominent mixture of cologne and professionalism sifting through the smoke. He looked almost calm. But Joey couldn’t help but mix things up a little, letting out a sharp, distinctive whistle from the back of the room that caused Kaiba’s ears to perk up defensively as his eyes darted immediately to its source.

Locking eyes with Joey, his posture stiffened and his eyes pierced, politely yet forcefully cutting through the various tables and bystanders that separated him from the blonde.

Joey took a calm swig of his drink, bending his body upward as Kaiba approached. “Isn’t this a little out of your style?” he grinned, a trailing hint of sarcasm lingered in the air, yet Joey had not intended to hit such a fragile nerve.

The crowd around them had already either directed their attention to the next performer, or had been too drunk to take particular interest, so they hardly noticed as Kaiba wrapped his fingers forcefully around Joey’s wrist, clamping the other vehemently over the boy’s mouth as he pushed him towards an even more poorly lit corner out of sight. Joey resisted modestly with both wrists folding around Kaiba’s arms, but it was no use as the CEO towered over him, pressing him hard against the wall. “What the fuck are you _doing_ _here_ ,” he hissed closely on the side of Joey’s face; who felt his own heart rate accelerate as Kaiba’s breathing collided against his ear in a soft, yet forceful whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haah WOW, such a lie about that 'run in,' SO SORRY, I did NOT remember that it took EIGHTY additional paragraphs beforehand to finally get to. 
> 
> Same as Chapter One, but this time not a lie, if I can stay up and stomach the RIDICULOUS formatting I wrote the original Chapter Five to, I'll post it anyways out of a terrible lack of things to do. 
> 
> Oh yeah...guess I already prepared said 'end notes,' damn it.
> 
> SO ALSO: *ahem* since I’ve been retyping and editing for hours, thus all cognitive function is waning, I’ll basically be entirely copying’and’pasting all such author notes from the past-tense posting:
> 
> "OKAY, so finally those two have noticed each other!! IN AMERICA. Sorry, for those of you who watch the abridged series—I couldn’t resist. Anyways, I was originally going to use that piano-bar scene later, but I just couldn’t help it because I love the tension. Also, for those of you who are like, “how the eff does Joey not notice how unusual it is to see Kaiba,” I was trying to make it seem like the weed offset his ability to do so. (even though as a veteran smoker, even I know it usually doesn’t disable someone THAT much—but when you haven’t smoked for awhile, you’d be surprised at how intensely it can alter your reaction time!) I was also pretty proud of myself for incorporating more of Seto’s p.o.v—as I’ve failed to do so previously."
> 
> Any who.
> 
> "I know that I’ve dragged this on, and I know Joey has spent his time in the company of females lately, but it was all to build up towards this moment. After this, everything is going to change."
> 
> And that about sums it all up! (except that I have NO idea why chapter ONE'S ending chapter note is appearing beneath this? at least on my version...*sigh* fuck it)


	5. Chemistry of a Car Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another lie, this chapter is actually also pretty short. Don't ask me why it's formatted so fxcked up, I honestly was probably just bored and sleep deprived and messing with the centering, thinking to myself, "o0o, how much prettier it looks all chopped and fragmented! JUST.LIKE.JOEY'S.CURRENT.MENTAL.STATE. IT'S SO POETIC AND BRILLIANT!" Ehhhh, nottt so much. More like obnoxious and semi confusing. HOWEVER, at least AO3 lets me take similar formatting advantage of the left/right alignment options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ESSENTIALLY; to briefly explain this format, FOR NO DISCERNABLE REASON, all of KAIBA'S flashback responses and descriptions are indented/aligned to the LEFT, while all of JOEY'S are indented/aligned to the RIGHT. 
> 
> The flashback is LIKEWISE, spliced into various segments concurrently throughout the chapter with similarly alternating, decretive little ".-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- .'s" These however, have nothing to do with anything significant. Just how I decided to position them. 
> 
> EXCEPT FOR one tiny part that's centered directly smack dab in the middle of one of Joey's sections, simply for the fact that part of the flashback skipped over all continuity of the rest. This is honesty WAY less confusing than it actually sounds, but I figured I should explain anyways. 
> 
> BASICALLY; I'd advise you just to start reading, because I'm probably making this SO much more complicated, and once you do, you'll realize it all makes pretty inferable sense. The flashback being the usual italicized portions, and the presently occurring the normally formatted. 
> 
> Shutting up now.

**Chapter Five: _Chemistry of a Car Crash._**

* * *

  _As if Kaiba’s heavy breathing had blown the alternating atmosphere away, Joey’s pupils began to dilate and constrict uncontrollably._

_“Me? Wh-wh-what are **you** doing here?” he breathed unsteadily, choking upon the unfamiliarity of oxygen in place of smoke—and suddenly the inconsistencies actualized, and Seto Kaiba didn’t belong._

_“Answer,” Kaiba’s breathed in increments, “the question.”_

_“I live here,” the blonde struggled under the brunette’s virile hold._

_Kaiba’s fists squeezed the duelist involuntarily as pale, nimble fingers cut off the circulation in Joey’s wrists. “What…did…you…say?”_

_The other boy whimpered in response, shrinking down defensively out of fear. “I…I live here,” he stuttered, and his eyes were closed._

_Kaiba’s entire body shook with infuriation, causing a sea of red to splash against his face, “ **I** live here,” the executive stated, as if the privilege was exclusive. _

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

There was a systematic chirping filling the air that hummed electronically around the exhausted boy. As the sounds stirred him uneasily from his slumbering state, both eyelids blinked open in confusion as the room around him materialized in the light.

Joey’s first instinct was to panic, feeling his arms jerk sideways, gripping the guardrails. His posture loosened though as the blurry symmetries focused into images. _Where am I?_ he thought, observing the portable box at his bedside which flashed a series of numbers almost every time he blinked. As he tried to grasp his surroundings, he noticed a myriad of sensors stuck to his chest, and numerous white colored wires that intertwined all the way to the device by his side.

 “Hello?” he asked, glancing around unsurely at the room. It was set up almost like an apartment, but the space was entirely unfamiliar to him.

There was a sudden movement from behind a pale blue curtain. “Oh, thank goodness,” an elderly woman appeared, “I was wondering when you’d wake up!”

Joey smiled out of politeness, but couldn’t hide the explicit hostility towards the stranger. “Who are you? Where am I?” he sputtered frantically, pulling the various cords from his body.

“Easy now,” she calmly eased his hands away from the tabs. “My name is Alice,” the woman smiled. “I’m your nurse—You’re in the hospital,” she clarified soothingly.

“But I’m not sick…” he trailed off, still in a daze, shifting backwards against the bed frame.

 “You’re right,” she agreed, replacing the sensors that Joey had successfully removed, “but it seems that you had a rather rough night yesterday. Your friend called you in unconscious around midnight.”

“My friend?”

  _One of the ambulance attendants approached Kaiba._

_“There’s room in the back if you’d like to ride with your friend…”_

_Friend? Kaiba glared, both embarrassed and disgusted by the association._

_“…we’re going to need someone to contact anyways, but we have to leave immediately.”_

“Mhm,” she nodded, checking his charts and vitals, “Didn’t stay the whole night, but long enough to talk with the doctors and ensure that everything possible was being done.”

Joey’s mind, which had already long since begun to wander, had spiraled off even more counterproductively. An overlapping logic continuously tried to process the information, but all he could draw were more blanks. 

“Well, you’re responding a lot more healthily today,” the woman interrupted his chain of thought. “You gave everyone a pretty good scare though, you should thank your friend,” she smiled, replacing Joey’s file, “you’re lucky to have such strong support in your life.” 

“I know, I will, they’re truly like an answer to my prayers. I’ll call the first chance I get,” Joey assured her, automatically thinking back to Sam.

 “Good to hear,” she smoothed over her uniform, “Now then, I’m all finished here, you just press that button if you need me,” she pointed to a red square on the bedside. “The doctor should be in to see you shortly.”

“Thanks,” Joey held up his hand, feeling both exhausted and curious at the same time. _What the hell happened last night?_ He scrutinized, examining himself thoroughly for clues. _The last thing I remember is smoking,_ eyebrows furrowed fixedly, frustrated with the empty projectile, _but after that everything just goes blank._ Lids closed painfully. 

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

_Joey’s eyes burst open, pulsating against the shockwaves of Seto’s tsunami like affect. **This isn’t real** , he decided frantically and began to struggle more aggressively, writhing and squirming between the wall and the sculpted outlines of Kaiba’s body pressing into the indents and grooves of his own. _

_The sign of struggle only willed the executive’s superior strength to restrain his pray in a way that was even more suffocating. Arching his shoulders, Kaiba bent his upper half into Joey, and the lightweight material in his business suit shifted to define the chiseled outline of his frame._

_“Don’t fuck with me, Wheeler,” he gritted his teeth, “I’m serious—what the **fuck** are you doing here!?”_

_The brunette’s grip left deep, purple indents as the blood vessels burst into blackening bruises, but Joey had already lost all sense of feeling. **This isn’t real,** he chanted over and over to himself, as the reality and the high transposed indecipherably in his subconscious. The boy’s state of consternation creating a catastrophe, throwing off the equilibrium that balanced Joey’s nervous system. _

_His mind went a mile a minute, unable to concentrate on any of his thoughts fixedly as they blurred and overlapped extrinsically, and the extraneous fit of emotions introduced a vertiginous paralysis to his already petrified limbs. As his heart skyrocketed and plummeted undecidedly, the constant rhythm was thrown into an accelerating whirlwind, instinctively causing Joey’s brain to send out signals to the rest of his body._

_“Speak mutt,” Kaiba commanded, disgustedly absorbing the fearful scent of the blonde’s vulnerability. “I said **speak** , not play dead,” Kaiba’s breath staggered across the increasing lack of color in Joey’s face, as he forcefully thrust the planking teen’s shoulders backwards and forwards. _

**_He has to be fucking with me,_ ** _Kaiba tried to persuade himself convincingly, **Wheeler is just trying to get in my head so he can catch me off guard.**_

_The dizziness dissolved Joey’s thoughts into a disabling dementia that left his subconscious struggling to extract any verbal concentration of words that hadn’t already diffused; one idea discontinued another, opinions irrationally exchanged one extreme for its opposite, and meaningful validation liquefied._

_“This isn’t real,” Joey mumbled unintelligently. “You’re not real.”_

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ ** ****

Sighing deeply, Joey accepted the inability to conceive what had occurred, and continued to analyze himself in wait of clarification. Both arms extended, he noticed the discoloration that surrounded his I.V, then glanced to its twin, noticing the markings were consistent on both, painting frequencies of black and violet smudges that welted into his skin like leprosy. _I don’t remember getting into a fight,_ he furthered his observation, knowing all too well from past experiences that the bruises were handprints, _an impressively large pair of hands too,_ he turned his forearms in every direction. Suddenly taking note of thin cuts that were relative to the bruise patterns. _Are those…fingernails?_ His eyes bulged at the tiny slits around his wrists.

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

  _“Of course I’m real!” Kaiba snapped, confusing Joey’s delusionary state with one of disrespect. “Now stop whatever game you’re trying to play,” his nails dug sharply, just barely breaking the skin. Allowing warm, red currents to trickle and pool beneath his own fingertips._

_Kaiba didn’t even notice the infliction, and neither did Joey; instead, his mind calculated control with the callousness of a cognitive correctional facility. There was a hallucinating hysteria accumulating as he assessed the unconventional actions that inflicted an intangible level of dissolution towards his personal authority._

_Joey’s actions had broken one of Kaiba’s cardinal rules, and the undesirable presence violated jurisdiction, leaving his superior vulnerable as he crossed over into the unchartered territory of Seto’s personal life, invading the borderline like a fugitive._

_No one was ever supposed to hear him play, and no one was ever supposed to know where he was. Yet, the idea and the reality had collided with a much more fated force. As the illusionary escape shattered, Kaiba’s world shook, sending pulsating shockwaves throughout his core. The blue-eyed boy bit down on his tongue and his pupils narrowed into sharp, shallow spheres._

_As the CEO continued to shoot through Joey, the blonde’s focus shimmered and then became disjoining as the radius of his auras began bleeding black. The image of Kaiba’s face became fuzzy and pixilated pin-needles of color vanished away, one by one until all that was left was an echo._

_Panicked and paralyzed, Joey’s fingers frantically tightened around whatever surface of Kaiba they could find to grab hold of. Several stocky, yet strong legs locked and then buckled, causing his knees to shake; sending out soft rippling patterns across the other’s pant legs._

**_I need to leave, I need to get the fuck out of here,_ ** _he screamed inwardly, but was too terrified to move on his own, and all of his stamina evaporated into a condensation of cold sweat along his forehead. The thought of Kaiba witnessing him only made it worse, and all that escaped the blonde was a soft whimpering noise._

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

“Panic Attack?”

“Indeed,” the doctor re-affirmed, “a rather serious one too.”

Joey gulped, “How serious?” 

“Serious enough for you to loose consciousness.”

“I can’t remember anything.”

“That’s pretty normal,” he shrugged, “extreme emotional stress causes trauma that receptors block out mentally,” he further explained in layman’s terms.

“I don’t know-ah-bout _mental_ trauma,” Joey shook his head, “But lately I’ve bee feeling like I’m having heart attacks.”

“Yes,” the man nodded again, professionally, “the symptoms of a panic attack, especially when severe enough, mirror those of cardiac arrest—the only difference is that there is no immediate threat or repercussion. The onset of anxiety is actually systematic of your body’s natural coping process.” 

“Coping process? Could’ah fooled me!”

“Well, I don’t think averaging nearly two-hundred beats per minute would comfort most people,” he chuckled. “The process may be a somewhat healthy response to severe stress levels, however, anxieties that trigger such processes are quite the opposite.” 

“So, should I be worried?” Joey tried to come off slightly less unknowledgeable than he felt.

“Essentially, no.” The man continued to skim the pamphlet on his clipboard, jotting an indistinguishable signature on the appropriate blanks. “There aren’t any truly physical or lasting consequences, it is primarily a psychological condition. But, if you’re experiencing these episodes frequently, it wouldn’t hurt to get it checked out, especially if you’re falling out of consciousness.”

“Well, what is the timeframe for ‘frequently’?” he inquired, drawing parallels to his recent flare-ups.

“Let me put it this way,” the doctor handed Joey his release forms, “the average person usually experiences a single panic attack during their whole life—and even then its not guaranteed.”

Joey’s heart beat apprehensively, counting at least six attacks in almost two weeks.

Before giving further instructions, the doctor detected the hesitancy sweeping over his patient’s face. “I can refer you to someone if you’d like? I have some close friends and colleagues in the profession, and they are exceptional at what they do.”

“No, that’s okay,” Joey continued skimming the medical jargon in the paperwork nervously to distract himself. “You just need me to sign this right?” 

Although reluctant, the man respected Joey’s answer. “Yes,” he flipped back and forth between the last few pages, “Here and here. Then you’re free to leave at your leisure. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Joey reached forward for a pen, clicking it immediately in his palm.

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

_Seto’s body was still pressed into Joey’s, so hard that he could feel a heartbeat pulsating heat waves through him, but the raise in temperature went unnoticed to the clammy quaking of the rigid, ruby eyed boy._

_“I don’t feel well,” Joey staggered, inadvertently furrowing his fingers more tightly into the wrinkled sections of Seto’s sleeves._

_“You’re not even supposed to **be** here,” Kaiba hissed, thrusting the other’s grip away effortlessly, “so I don’t care if you’re **dying** Wheeler!” he shook the incapacitated boy violently. _

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ ** ****

“Alright then,” the doctor rubbed his hands together, “a nurse will be in shortly to collect that,” he nodded, easing himself out the door. “Try and take it easy for awhile, okay? Doctor’s orders.” 

Joey’s head nodded, but his eyes were still glued to the fine print, perusing the text with mild interest as he scribbled his name unfamiliarly in English. As his pen hovered over the remaining bullet point, the strokes of ink fell just short of the second line.

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

_The rise in temperature flung the mercury right through the glass ceiling of his internal thermostat. Adjusting to the forceful movements, Joey felt the alarming instability prickling over his skin, and the impact sent the boy’s temperament off the charts, shooting the slippery, silver sphere out unpredictably._

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ ** ****

Kaiba’s eyes were red, swollen from the lack of sleep and the inability to achieve it. _This can’t be happening,_ he stirred a martini stressfully, propped against the countertop, still in his pajamas despite the fact he’d never slept.

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

_As the boy beneath his gaze seemed to explode, Kaiba felt the metallic current roll down in a petroleum wave, crashing against the surfaces of both his slender appendages. There was a startling thumping against his breast that beat out of rhythm and dangerously off pace. Kaiba’s concern, although disdainful, grew stronger as he counted the heartbeats in Joey’s pulse that accelerated continuously._

_“Seriously…” Joey faltered, resisting the forces of gravity that magnetically pulled him downward. “I…I don’t feel right…”_

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

Although the strong blend of blackberry and vanilla vodka did little to ease Seto’s painful expressions, allowing foreign emotions to penetrate his brain. _I wonder if he’s okay,_ he considered far too thoughtfully, blinking back to Joey’s body falling limply into his own. It was an awkward sensation that provoked these emotions, and an unfamiliar concern that occupied Kaiba’s thoughts. He’d never seen Joey look so terrified, nor had he himself ever had to support another human being quite so literally.  

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

_Reflexively curling his forearms, Kaiba caught onto the other boy, whose body had gone limp and lifeless without warning. “Wheeler?” he asked frustrated, trying to stabilize and shake the blonde at the same time. “Come on, what the hell is the matter?”_

_Joey’s body however, draped against Kaiba’s motionlessly, leaving the rival in a rather conflicting position._

_Shifting his own weight to one hip, Kaiba steadied Joey onto his shoulder, wrapping one arm under Joey’s and around the boy’s abdomen._

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

“Ugh,” several fists slammed into the granite countertops “why am I even still thinking about it!” he growled, sending the fragile glass to the side with a powerful thrust. The expensive liquor splashing thick pools of maroon into the carpet as shattered glass shards were sent in every direction.

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

_“Snap out of it,” he demanded, using his free hand once again to move Joey’s shoulder in attempts to wake him._

_The blonde’s lips made faint, yet unproductive movements, allowing an incoherent muffle to escape before his neck dropped listlessly and his forehead collided with Kaiba’s chest._

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

The utensil in Joey’s hand dropped down immediately, and the impact caused splattered black marks to form beneath the ballpoint. _They might as well just have put me out of my misery,_ he croaked, turning out his insides as he stared disbelievingly at the signature next to the admittance information.

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

_The brunette sighed angrily; **This is just what I need.** He balanced Joey more carefully, digging through jacket pockets for his phone. **A stray dog** , he exhaled, pressing three numbers swiftly into play. _

_Neon strobes of royal blue and cherry flashed in alternating patterns, casting colorful shadows onto Kaiba’s face as he watched the paramedics secure Joey onto the stretcher._

**_.-*- .._-**~......~**- _..-*- ._ **

Joey sighed, lying back down against the hospital bed, _something tells me we’re not in Kansas anymore._ He closed his eyes, unable to erase the permanence of Seto Kaiba’s name curving eloquently across the solid line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, as I said before, not sure WHY I had to chop and screw this chapter together so unconventionally, but it probably had much and more to do with A. looking pretty, B. Decidedly divvying up the 'suspense' (for lack of better ways to phrase), and C. the fact that prior to writing it, I myself, WAS admitted to the emergency room for having one of the most severe panic attacks EVER in life; albeit not having lost consciousness, or being in a piano bar with an attractive rivalry, but having smoked prior and very much thrown into an entirely disorienting state, during which I legitimately thought I was having a heart attack. 
> 
> Which I can only assume prompted most of the, even for ME, abstracted descriptions and symbolism, in attempts to reproduce the inability to think straight, focus, or convey my own thoughts to myself situationally without becoming more and more panicked. The doctor's dialogue also almost completely indicative of what MY doctor explained to ME on the night in question, and the first time I'd been given a definitive explanation to the fits of anxiety I learned to thus identify properly as 'panic attacks,' which had been occurring a few times a week.
> 
> WOO for having crazy mad anxiety!!


	6. Conflict of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annnd back to the long as fxck chapters.

**Chapter Six: _Conflict of Interest._**

_Thump. Thump. Thump. There was a single line that illuminated throughout the room, peaking and plummeting faster than Kaiba could calculate. Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Pealing back his coat flaps, he peered inside and found his stomach had been hollowed. In the absence of his internal organs, there was a painful emptiness that beat bright blue and burgundy vibrations. Several shriveled valves were straining to swallow the solidifying serum as it quickly created a clot._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Organic compounds that once beat in his breast had now become swallowed in self-injected volatile matter. A syringe materialized between his fingers and Kaiba felt an undeniable alarm as it pierced his chest, sending the shrill, systematic sounds into a countdown around him._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Confused, he felt the space in his fingers reposition around a cold curvature. Several prongs gave way to a handle, crisscrossing at the middle to reveal a metal extension that bent inward on either side, forming a union between identical, inclining sharp angles. Magnetically, the instrument pulled towards the alternating red and blue cables that coiled through the convulsions, creating a series of cataclysmic cardiac calisthenics._

_Thumpthumpthumpthump._

_Like a ticking time bomb, there was an explosive hardwired throughout his heart. Several shaking appendages wavered unconfidently between wires, his mind was betraying his motions, and the indecision rendered his defeat. There was absolutely no surefire way to diffuse the sensation, and there were barely seconds on the clock._

_Heart-lines shot back and forth irrepressibly, compressing into the size of a pin needle, there was a two second pause. Bursting forth in all directions, the detonation followed swiftly, and his heart broke into fragments that began to continuously reduce into dust._

_Thump…Thump…Thump_

_The symmetry of his heart was disfigured, and the very substance that framed his sensitivity was lost. There was a tragic tintinnabulation and Kaiba clenched his aching irises even more tightly. The noise invaded his pleading veins; the vibrations mocked him mercilessly, and his heart, although faintly, continued to beat._

_A curious combination of water and salt slid like a serum from his lashes, and the wetness on his cheeks was something unfamiliar. Kaiba’s fingers became flexible and he moved towards the liquescence pooling beneath his lids. Yet, he felt numb towards the currents, unable to match them to any emotion._

_A soft voice resonated in place of the out of sight pulsations: “It’s hard to feel, isn’t it?”_

_“What’s wrong with me?” his voice sounded involuntarily._

_There was a cavalier chuckling, “Isn’t that obvious?” the brunette’s echo went mute, and the voice churned on caustically without reply, “You’re heartless."_

_“That’s…that’s impossible…that means I’m…I’m…”_

_“Dead?” a spitefully playful suggestion offered. “May as well be.”_

_“Don’t say that,” Kaiba found his hands clamping down furiously over his ears. “I don’t believe you.”_

_“Then see for yourself,” the rhythmic reverberations faded away._

_Desperate for alleviation, uneasy eyes lingered through the darkness, yet he found no direction to follow. Suddenly, a hand of Duel Monster cards fanned out in front of his face, and the connection was uncharacteristically counterintuitive._

_“Do you…want me to choose one…?”_

_He received no further instruction, nor could he strategize his selection. The cards suddenly rearranged like a keyboard beneath his feet, pressing down in various repetitions. A haunting melody chased the keys, dipping downward and upward like a tidal wave beneath him, overturning the hand to reveal images beneath._

_“Swords of Revealing Light,” the entity expressed pitifully, as three golden streaks of light fell around the boy’s frame._

_Each structure struck the ground like a tuning fork, and sound waves ripped outward from the ground. Separating from Seto, each set of rings stretched out in different directions. Traveling only a short distance, the rings overlapped, and the ripple-effect motions crashed like waves against three more cards._

_Positioned horizontally in front of him, the facedown cards flipped over. Kaiba wanted to protest that he had never played them, but the voice was quick to read his thoughts._

_“You don’t always choose your cards Kaiba,” it reprimanded. “Rather,  you hold the hand you’ve been dealt.”_

_Slowly, the cards surfaced one by one, and the voice revealed the first calmly, “Monster Reborn.”_

_The image in front of him began to take affect simultaneously as the card came to life. In the center he saw the facets of a precious ruby stone form. Standing opposite of the gem, the prison around him began to radiate off the smooth surface until it reflected a scarlet symmetry back on his breast. After the chasm etched the shape back between his ribs, Kaiba felt an alarming pressure._

_Contemporaneously, as the unfamiliar sensation pulsated, the impression of the stone against the card began unfolding into an elegant pendent. As the shapes became fixed against the card and Kaiba in mirror images, both burst forth in a brilliant blue light, and the shock tore through his lungs._

_Gasping as the oxygen collided with his stomach, the breath of life set his airways into an instinctive yet surreal series of motions._

_“It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? To come back from the dead.” The voice encircled him, “So strange how easily we forget ourselves.”_

_Lips trembled with innocence unfamiliar to Kaiba, anesthetized auras widened with hypersensitivity, but the inability to move under the pressure of the swords revealed quite a condescending light._

_His voice sputtered, but broke against the inconsistencies of the game before him. Leaving Kaiba incapable of conceiving how the card had been played against him in the first place, all he managed was, “But…that’s…”_

_“Against the rules?” the invisible source asked with endless amusement, “You of all people should know how easily rules can be broken.”_

_Kaiba’s frame seemed to shake and the vulnerability was almost completely out of body, “Why are you doing this to me…”_

_“Don’t you know? You did this to yourself,” and with that another card fell effortlessly face forward._

_Oceanic tides beat forth restlessly against his lenses, and his body twitched helplessly at the sight of Mirror Force. Understanding now that the rules of play no longer applied, Kaiba’s body braced itself to withstand the attack, knowing he had no choice whether or not it took affect._

_"Relax,” the voice scolded, “Mirror Force is only your second card, and you still have one left.”_

_However these words did little to console him, and Kaiba felt an unpleasant jolt as shards of glass fell in puzzle pieces, systematically shifting side to side until gravity pulled them into their counter part.  As the glassy transparency began to take its shape, the light surrounding his incandescent prison bounced back and forth blindingly in an endless frequency._

_“Hard to see yourself isn’t it?” the sound seemed to breathe right into his ear, “Is it that you don’t know what to look for?” the whisper rolled contemptuously through the boy’s core, “Or are you just afraid of what you might find?”_

_“This isn’t real!” Kaiba’s vocal cords ripped through the air, “This isn’t real! You’re not real! Stop!”_

_Paying no attention to the desperate pleas that begged mercifully, the imperceptible entity continued to express itself unremorsefully. “And for your third and final card…”_

_“Please, please don’t!” he cried out frantically._

_But his words fell flat. “Light Force Sword.”_

_The friction of words electrified apprehensively throughout Seto’s locking limbs, but the Swords of Revealing Light continued to restrain his movement. A swift sound shot through the air like a crossbow that shattered the pane of glass that separated him from the final blow. And as the mirror splintered, Kaiba felt the blade spear through his ribcage, pinning a fourth card against him._

_Upon completing the third cycle, the light released the boy from preposition, and a sharp thumping sent his body screaming forwards as the card pinned to his chest bled black and blue. The divisions split him into both an embodiment and absence of light, and his face became imprinted onto the card._

_thump…thump…thump… “You are both a reflection and a shadow,” the voice fell distantly into an echo, “don’t let yourself disappear…” thump…thump…thump…_

Suddenly Kaiba’s entire body lurched forward in a cold sweat, heaving bewilderedly out against the air in his apartment that had gone stale. Feeling his chest rise and fall like a fifty pound weight, the brunette held the space on his breast where the sword had pierced him in his dream. Gripping his fingers involuntarily into the fabric of his shirt, he felt a small sense of reassurance after finding himself completely intact.

“It was just a dream,” he forced out in between breaths, closing his eyes as his hand traveled up towards his forehead. A ring of perspiration had formed around his hairline, and the strands felt damp beneath his fingers. 

 _How ridiculous,_ his fingers retracted from the beads of sweat that made his skin feel cold and clammy, thinking back to the contents of his dream. _What a stupid thing to dream about—Such an unrealistic concept, that would never happen._

Shaking his head, he scolded himself for having such thoughts, as if dreaming were something that he could control. It didn’t matter how lucid it had all felt, because he refused to entertain such outlandish ideas; and it didn’t matter how vividly _Change of Heart_ seemed to morph in and out of the blackness around him, because he was certainly not going to have one.

 _Honestly,_ he rolled his eyes, swinging his legs over his bedside when he noticed the numbers flashing hopelessly on the clock, _is Wheeler contagious or something?_ But the second the name even so much as entered his stream of conscious, Kaiba quickly shut himself off to it. As he moved elegantly across the room, he flicked a switch that flooded it with light, and took a seat on his couch.

Grabbing a fresh pack of cigarettes, along with an ashtray, Kaiba began to rub his nose between his thumb and forefinger—there was something about the heartbeats in his dream that continued to thump in his chest. As fingertips gently applied more pressure in circular motions, the boy released an unemotional sigh.

 _Such a curious dream though,_ the thought formed as he placed the carcinogen creation delicately between his lips, slowly singing the tip of the cigarette before he could hear the same _“thump. thump. thumping”_ turning into the beeps on Joey’s heart monitor.

The vibrations were something of a vicissitude, and the vital signs flashed a series of numbers in front of his eyes that Kaiba couldn’t control.

_...200...150…115…115…86…180…130…115…110…110…110…195…150…95…115…115…_

Each number jumped from one t the other as Kaiba recalled with flawless accuracy each digit that Joey’s vitals jumped alarmingly back and forth between. The memory summoned an equally uneasy wavering in his own pulse, as it dropped unexpectedly. Dragging his cigarette uneasily, doing his best to calm the unfamiliar motions of his memory, his thoughts were effortless against the prominence of the previous night.

_The beeping and chirping of the machine created an endlessly unsettling noise throughout the hospital room, and Kaiba sat discontent in a chair placed at the younger boy’s bedside. With one leg crossed, and fingers stretching across his mouth, cupping under his chin to hold his face, Kaiba’s eyes fell despondently dim around the motionless blonde._

_“He’s going to be okay, right?” Kaiba asked, not quite concerned, but far from insincerely._

_“He should recover by morning…” the man assured, but the only word the brunette made out was ‘should,’ “But something this extreme is terribly uncommon.”_

_There was a pause between the men as aqua irises clouded with overcast emotions that beat as out of control as the sounds skyrocketing and plummeting across the monitor._

_“How is it again you know each other?” the doctor next to him spoke._

_Such a direct question caught Kaiba off guard, so he twisted the truth, “We’ve known each other since high school,” he offered, trying to dissuade the disgusted scrunch off his face, “so we go back pretty far.”_

_“I see,” the doctor replied, and much to Seto’s gratitude, without questioning their relations further._

_“Why, may I ask, is it relevant?” he acquired a more hostile tone._

_"Because it is best that we contact someone in his immediate family,” he flipped through some of Joey’s paperwork, “but it seems his residency is fairly recent, and he doesn’t have any emergency contacts. You wouldn’t happen to know where we could reach them, would you?”_

_Eyebrows folded into a skeptical incline and Kaiba couldn’t even elaborate—Joey’s family? He’d never stopped to think about such a thing, nonetheless have known how to contact them. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”_

_His words were met with a deep sigh. “That’s too bad, this boy has got to be going through hell right now.”_

The cigarette had burned down to the filter, a long stem of ash fell onto Kaiba’s pants and he turned away from his thoughts disgustedly, focusing in on the dusty remnants soiling the silky fabric. _Disgusting_ he pulled the corner of his mouth into his cheek, carelessly dusting it away as he drew his eyes to a similarly discolored spot on his floor. He sighed again at the sight of burgundy stiffening his white carpet fibers, and then reached for a second cigarette, having only let the first burn.

Instinctively his mind began to erase the contents of the conversation that kept rewinding and fast-forwarding, but still there was a irregular convulsion that his heart beat anxiously back into his thoughts. _Is he going to be able to take care of himself?_ A flood of uncharacteristic thoughts began to drown his logic; _I mean the mutt is helpless at best, completely pathetic, and totally incapable._

Every thought sat solid and stationary, and not a single one of them would dissolve. These awkward concerns rang through his ears until he wasn’t sure if they were still there, but his shifting stomach confirmed their presence. Both eyes slanted towards his planner, but the austere auras continued to ignore the address he’d recorded between the pages.

 _Wheeler isn’t my problem,_ he smashed the end of his Marlboro against the bottom of the crystal ashtray, twisting it furiously beneath his fingers until it extinguished, _he never was and he never will be._

\- - -

As logical as it seemed for the fatiguing exhaustion to render Joey into a recovery slumber, there was absolutely no way to keep his eyes closed. Every time he disappeared behind those pale lids, images of that pompous, self-absorbed prick tore through him like the dominating tyrant he was.

 _Of all the people,_ Joey crossed his arms in a fit, _why the **fuck** did it have to be **Kaiba**?_

Although what unsettled him more than knowing the executive had taken him to the hospital was not being able to remember why he would have had to. And even more disturbing than that, was why he bothered to do something so _considerate_ in the first place. The overlapping logic looped in unproductive circles, leaving Joey on the verge of another panic attack as the anger and anxiety spun into a furious whirlwind behind his ribcage. Balancing a cigarette uncoordinatedly between his lips, he rang Sam before the sensation could uproot and leave behind a path of destruction.

Quick and timely as usual, she made an impeccably impressive arrival, carrying that deliciously transfixing aroma along with her. Sam wasted no time getting acquainted before she sat down, methodically preparing the bowl—they may have hardly known each other, but their interactions became familiar and routine. 

Ever since they’d smoked the first time, Joey’s lips lost all their hesitancy, and the words rolled off his tongue without thought. So similarly, as soon as the substance filtered into his blood stream, he tried unfathomably to convey what had happened.

 “So,” Sam’s fingers brushed over his, reaching to remove the lighter, “You just woke up in the hospital, can’t remember how, and some Ka..Ka…” ruby tinted eyes furrowed as she struggled to pronounce his name. 

“Kaiba.” Joey could hardly stomach saying it. 

“Ohh yeah,” she nodded, quickly taking her hit before continuing, “and some _Kaiba_ dude, who definitely lives in Japan,” her eyes stared upwardly and decisively to herself, “And who _definitely_ hates you, just coincidentally brought you there?” 

Joey inhaled deeply, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I guess it was pretty nice of him to take you at all though,” she offered, “I mean, he didn’t have to, right?”

“I already told you I don’t remember,” Joey stared forwards, his features going somewhat blank— _did he really have to?_  

“Well, I don’t think he sounds _that_ bad.”

“He’s a snake!” Joey’s body pulled forward, “I’ve never met such a low life scum!”

Sam’s already slanted eyes struggled to widen as they gazed back towards Joey’s with surprise. “That’s kind of harsh, isn’t it?” she asked. 

“Not even,” Joey rested back down comfortably, but a sharp twist wouldn’t stop conjuring in his chest, “you’ve never looked at pure evil until you’ve locked eyes with Seto Kaiba.”

She nudged him, “That’s pretty descriptive for someone you can’t stand to think about.” 

“Not really,” he tried to shrug her words away carelessly.

She sensed his hesitancy immediately, “He really bothers you, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed hard.

“So don’t let him.”

“It’s not that easy,” Joey felt his eyes lower, pulling towards the empty space beside him.

“Sure it is,” her elbows slanted, propping her body upwards, “Just stop thinking about him so much.”

His stomach compressed tightly. “I can’t help it.”

And it was scary how true his words were becoming as thoughts of Kaiba became absolutely inescapable. Quickly consuming every centimeter of his brain, visions of the blue-eyed brunette were manifesting manipulatively, and Joey was no longer sure what the hell it meant. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about him? Why did he suddenly care so much where Kaiba was? His stomach twisted and tangled and he had an untamable urge to find him, to see his face—just so he had some sort of proof that this wasn’t a dream. He had to know. He had to see him one more time, but didn’t have the faintest idea where to start looking.

\- - -

Unbeknownst to both duelists, however, this strange sensation was mutual and equally disorienting as it became infectious, taking over almost every second of every day. It had only been a couple of days since that night, but it had driven Kaiba to the brink of insanity, and he would do anything to exonerate these protective emotions over the dog. He’d never admit it, but something about Joey had almost reminded him of himself—a part of himself that he’d buried and long since left to decay. 

It was an unusually warm day in October that Monday, the sky was still, and the streets were silent as the atmosphere swallowed Kaiba’s new residence. Usually an apartment full of movement, full of motivation and progress—it had been left in a sort of paralysis. Every floorboard creaked the sound of his name, every room seemed to inhabit his presence, and nobody could deny that Joey haunted every footstep that Kaiba took.

Sitting in front of his computer, trying both desperately, and in vain, to concentrate on work, but for the first time in a long time even _that_ couldn’t restrain him. For almost one hundred and forty consecutive hours—Joey’s name, his face, and even his voice hadn’t so much as temporarily escaped his grieving mind. _Fuck it,_ Kaiba shook his head, _the sooner I get this out of my system—the sooner I can leave it behind me._

\- - -

In a somewhat similar daze, Joey was choosing to spend this lovely fall afternoon just like he’d spent the last days, and the days before that—locked away in his room with his mind lingering in realms his body wished he could go to. Laying with his back on his bed sheets, he stared ahead at the paint-chipping ceiling, tossing a baseball in the air above him, chanting Kaiba’s name rhythmically to himself.

However a synchronized set of chimes from the front door broke his concentration as it echoed endlessly down the hallway and into his room. Followed by a brief, faint knocking. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and trudged across the room, each foot coming down with so much deadweight that you could’ve heard him from the basement. His hair was messy and his eyes were bloodshot—he hadn’t slept the same in days. 

Opening his door, Joey’s stomach dropped. His face was a mixture of anticipation and confusion and his eyes were clouded as they lifted one way, and then the other. The older boy began to speculate, somewhat curiously, at the way the dog systematically mapped back and forth between how to approach the situation. _It’s almost instinctive,_ Kaiba considered, almost sarcastically, _and all this time I didn’t know that Wheeler knew **how** to think._

“How did you…find me exactly?”

Kaiba’s eyes absorbed the stupidity. “You still remember who you’re talking to, right?”

Joey sighed, “How could I forget.”

Despite the instinctively defensive hand that was positioned between them, Kaiba walked right in. Dropping it, Joey followed, “Come on in,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

“Well,” Joey began blatantly, “What in gods name are you _doing_ here?”

Unexpected, Kaiba’s optic radius reverted sharply to a much shorter range of contact. His mouth re-angled like he was about to execute, but his mind went completely blank. “Is that any way to talk to your guest?”

“Shut up,” Joey stated, more annoyed than angry. 

Kaiba simply stared, sharply at the blonde, wearing a professionally perfected poker face of both purpose and disinterest.

It only took about five seconds for the hesitation to take over Joey’s tone though, as he averted meeting Kaiba’s eyes, “So…why _are_ you here Kaiba?” 

“Because I just can’t sleep at night cause I’m _so_ worried,” Kaiba’s intonation fluttered acrimoniously before falling completely flat. “Why do you think? I wouldn’t want to be suspected of animal cruelty, would I Wheeler? This is merely a legality.”

Joey dragged his foot on the ground, feeling his cheeks blush faintly against the awkward silence that fell around them. “Why did you…” he fumbled, “…why did you sign those forms for me?”

“For the same reason I’m here now, you moron. I told you, this is a matter of liability, it’s called  follow up.”

“Well, I’m still standin’ aint I, Mr. Sophisticated?”

“Unfortunately,” Kaiba smiled.

“Yeah, I know, _hah-hah_ ,” Joey rolled his eyes, “Don’t you have something expensive to go do?”

“Lawsuits are expensive,” Kaiba spoke with an unemotional and burdensome sigh. “And I don’t feel like spending a single cent on you; so, I made this trip personally to see that my expectations are met.”

“Really,” Joey droned sarcastically, “I’m honored.”

“Well you should be mutt.”

“Well don’t worry, I’m not going to sue you, now you can happily _leave_ ,” Joey stressed.

“Oh, because I was certain you’d notify me if you were going to,” the brunette’s eyes rolled back.

Joey glared, but suddenly Kaiba’s eyes seemed distracted, systematically scanning the space behind him, and then refocusing directly on Joey himself. _He looks terrible_ , the brunette observed pitifully as he noticed the deep, discolored indents below Joey’s eyes and the tangled strands of hair that fell around them. At the same time, Joey felt an overwhelming disquietude, despite the fact Seto Kaiba had been singularly consuming his thoughts for the past few days, now that he was standing face to face with the brunette, Kaiba was the _last_ person Joey wanted to see.

As the third or fourth moment of silence rolled around, his heart thumped uncontrollably against his chest, and he felt terribly awkward feeling the concentrated intensity of those blue eyes falling on him immovably. The enduringly agonizing shifting in his stomach suddenly causing the onset of another panic attack to sting alarmingly in the blonde’s chest, and his stomach quivered weakly.

Terrified of what might happen if he allowed Kaiba to stay any longer, Joey sputtered helplessly, “Pl-please leave.”

Ultramarine irises seemed to flinch at the request, but at the same time Kaiba assessed the space again quickly, taking note of the state of disarray Joey’s apartment sat in—his bed was unmade and there were ashes everywhere, something that was almost too familiar to the brunette. He couldn’t figure out why the sight had conjured a painful twisting in his heart and what the doctor had said to him shot through his head: _“that boy has got to be going through hell right now.”_

“ _Please,_ ” Joey’s voice shook, “Just please _go_.”

“Fine,” Seto’s back stiffened and his tone went cold, but it wasn’t Joey’s pleas that changed his mind, it was the increasingly insufferable spasm in his stomach. “You’re clearly still inconsiderably rude and defective, so I guess you really _are_ fine,” and with that he turned sharply and slammed the door shut on his way out.

As soon as Kaiba was gone, Joey dropped to the floor and clutched the sharp prickling in his chest that made his heart sting and his arms feel numb. A wave of panic swept over him and it only provoked the attack to cycle. What he hadn’t realized though, was that Kaiba still remained on the other side of his door, hearing the whimpering murmurs that escaped the blonde agonizingly. _Maybe I should go back inside_ , he thought, but only for a minute before shaking his head, still disgusted with how sensitive he’d been becoming towards someone so insignificant. Yet as easily as he had finally turned away from Joey’s apartment, those thoughts and surfacing differences in how he felt were not so compliant.

\- - -

Rushing his footsteps, nearly breaking into a sprint, Kaiba fled hastily down the lakefont, desperately trying to escape the restless waves that unsettled him so much. _Why did I do that? Why did I have to go there?_ He shook his head with his eyes closed painfully, _this is exactly how I **didn’t** want to feel. _ The dissatisfactory distress was almost too much for the boy to handle as thoughts of Joey’s apartment continuously began to remind Kaiba of a much darker time in his own life. The connection way too personal, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize so easily with someone he despised with every inch of his being.

Finally back to the enclosure of his own apartment, Kaiba felt himself manically fixated on thoughts he knew neither how to express nor how to evade. Even the arrival of his magnificent piano couldn’t dissuade the rush of emotions that were bursting through his subconscious; all he could see was that awful alarming look that encased those hazel lenses, distorting and disfiguring the spiteful yet playful confidence that defined their past interactions. _I know I’m supposed to hate him,_ Kaiba twisted the class ring on his finger, quickly correcting his statement; _I mean, I **do** hate him, but he just looked so pathetic..._

“God damn it,” he cursed in his native tongue, completely unsure how to translate the thoughts and emotions that, despite their existence, still held no emotional value. They were plaguing yet he felt no sincerity—they felt almost protective, but Kaiba’s core convulsed contemptuously. Yet there was an unnerving empathy that caused memories of loneliness to surface, memories that Kaiba had not willingly revisited in years; but he knew the look on Joey’s face all too well, and understood the plethora of ashes and empty cigarette packs even better than that. However, Kaiba had never taken kindly to showing emotion, and so naturally it made him furious that he couldn’t shake them.

More than anything, he didn’t fully understand how he could feel so responsible for making the mutt feel like that, or seeing the cuts and bruises around Joey’s arms that he knew he had inflicted. _I don’t like the kid, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to hurt him,_ he thought over guiltily, unable to ignore the severity of how shaken up and wounded he’d left Wheeler. Playing the scenes over and over created a flash movie in his mind of the night at the piano bar, and his mouth wrinkled into pure repugnance with the realization that between the two of them, the only animal had been himself.

Frowning dejectedly, he found himself face to face with his own reflection, and feelings of regret loomed over his shaky silhouette as everything and anything having to do with Joey intensified the pain and forced the remembrance upon the disillusioned boy.

Unexpectedly, Kaiba felt his fingers hovering over the keypad on his phone when thoughts of Joey transposed with the same awful pressure he felt inside his stomach whenever he imagined how terribly alone he’d left his brother. He knew it was late, but he hoped the child was still awake—the locket around his neck was suffocating him again, and his brother was the only person he could turn to.

Troubled footsteps paced in circles around the carpet and he balanced his phone between his ear and his shoulder while he lit up a cigarette and nervously awaited the outcome of the phone call as the line continued to ring. Then there was a _click_ , and Kaiba held his breath.

He could hear the child releasing a small, sleepy yawn as he spoke into the receiver groggily, “ _Mmn,_ Hello?”

The noise hurt almost as much as the sound of Kaiba’s voice as he whispered responsively, “Mokuba?”

His tone electrified eagerly, “Is that really you Seto?" 

“Yeah,” he closed his eyes, holding the locket tightly, “It-it’s me.”

“You never called me back,” the voice lowered sadly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you miss me?” Mokuba’s voice reflected the tears that must have prickled up.

The sound was slowly starting to break his heart though, and Kaiba couldn’t speak.

“Don’t you love me anymore Seto?” the preteen sputtered, and Kaiba could hear the tears sliding through the speaker. 

“Of course I love you,” his voice cracked.

“Why do you want to be so far away from me then?”

“I don’t, I promise Mokuba, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” he pleaded.

“I’m just…going through some really personal stuff right now, and I needed to get away,” the brunette struggled to convey himself emotionally.

“I thought you could talk to me about that stuff though?”

“This isn’t something you should have to worry about, Mokuba, you’re too young.”

“I am not!” he piped defensively. 

“I didn’t want to burden you,” Kaiba replied warmly, wishing so badly that he could hug his brother right now.

The understanding reflected mutually in Mokuba’s voice as the tears tried up and the child toughened up for the other, “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, I just,” he trailed off, “I just wish you could have talked to me about it.”

“I know, I just wanted to apologize,” he spoke softly, but quickly changed the subject because he thought he might actually cry, “So, how is everything? Are you okay?” 

“I guess so,” Mokuba spoke quietly, “It’s just lonely without you here.”

“What about your friends?” 

“I haven’t really cared to see them much, but…”

“But what?” Kaiba asked curiously.

Mokuba hesitated, “But…I ran into Yugi a few days ago, and he’s been trying really hard to cheer me up…please don’t be angry though.”

“I’m not angry,” Seto spoke quietly, if anything he felt jealous.

“He’s kind of going through something similar,” Mokuba tried to justify.

This made Kaiba stiffen uncomfortably though, “How is that?”

“Well…I guess Joey left too…” 

His chest thumped out of rhythm and he knew he’d regret it, but parted his lips anyways, “I know.”

“You know?” 

“I sort of…ran into him.” 

The conversation was all down hill after that, and Kaiba continued to confide in his brother, rehashing the previous events between Joey and himself as Mokuba listened intently to what his brother had to say. Surprisingly, the child had responded to everything with wisdom way beyond his years, and nearly a week later, and Kaiba still couldn’t ignore the accuracy of his words: _“Well, you can’t just leave him like that Seto…you still remember how that feels, don’t you?”_

Reminding Kaiba almost immediately of the hollowness that he refused to let anyone except his brother see, and an undeniable parallel was drawn between the similar manic state of emotions that he himself so often felt; and even more than that, the internal anguish of not having anyone around to even notice there was something wrong with him. So, against his better judgment, he found himself back where he started, as his fist fell hesitantly against Joey’s front door.

\- - -

“What? You again! I _thought_ we took care of this already.” 

“I’m not convinced; I’d like you to see a doctor.”

“I did that at the hospital, genius.” 

“No, a different kind of doctor.”

“How would that make a difference? A doctor’s a doctor.”

“Wrong,” Kaiba concluded the debate. “This is a psychological doctor.”

“Oh, you’re afraid I’m mental now too?” Kaiba began to open his mouth, and Joey interrupted, “Actually, don’t’ answer that.”

“Fine,” Kaiba’s eyes were still pierced despite the eerie smirk in his speech. “Now, I will arrange for them to conduct a cognitive analysis.”

Joey’s eyes bulged, “Conduct…? Analysis…?” he repeated in confused fragments.

“Is the vocabulary too complex? Yes, a cognitive analysis.”

“Isn’t that a little involved for someone who doesn’t care about me?”

Seto’s eye twitched and he tried not to address Joey as spitefully as before—his compromise sounded apathetically. “No, just thorough. I’m not someone who leaves loose ends.”

“Well, consider me all tied up!” Joey threw his hands up in mock-excitement.

“It’s not a joke,” Kaiba stared irascibly. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll be fine! _Jesus_ , just leave it alone Kaiba!”

“No!” he shouted angrily, “Two-hundred beats-per-minute is not something you ignore,” the specificity threw Joey into a blank fascination, “It’s abnormal,” the brunette expertly redirected his intentions. “They’ll have my phone number on record if anything were to happen, and I don’t need them calling me.”

“Why would the call _you_?”

“I’m listed as your emergency contact." 

“Why the hell would you do _that_!” Joey asked horrified.

 And Kaiba seemed to pause and almost stumble, “I-it’s irrelevant now. It-its just procedure Wheeler, stop arguing with me.” 

“Well, fine!” the boy exclaimed, “I wont argue—cause I’m _not_ going.”

“Wheeler—I’m not giving you a choice,” he stepped intimidatingly forward.

“And if I don’t cooperate, Rich Boy? Y’gonna call security?”

Piercing his eyes, Seto stepped into Joey without warning, leaning his face in close to the blonde, who was boxed in against the table. “No,” his voice produced scolding spurts of air, “If you resist, I’ll take you by force.”

A disorienting sensation of déjà-vu jumpstarted inside Joey’s chest that was now thumping; wide, childlike eyes stared subliminally as his strength was being synthetically subdued into submission.

Equally aware, but undeniably in control, Seto remained unmoved, his eyes were restraining, and he was tactfully emitting slightly audible sounds in soft, but forceful breathing.

“Understood?” the brunette whispered, and the feverous rush of words fogged against Joey’s hazel lenses, melting into menthol and spearmint against his taste buds when he parted his lips to respond.

Kaiba’s eyes narrowed to the movement, and a flawless face of porcelain features closed the space between them to ensure the answer he received was the right one. Spastic movements slipped through the other boy, and Joey spurted a stifled noise when his heart skipped a beat.

“Wheeler?” the transcendent tone was eerily eloquent, producing the affect of nails on a chalkboard.

 Joey shivered, “Y-yes, Kaiba.” 

Moistened lips slanted in satisfaction, and Kaiba wore a devilish grin. “That’s a good boy.”

Joey’s stomach lurched before rolling over into his chest, “Yes, Kaiba,” the boy repeated, maintaining perfect eye contact with Seto’s mouth; there were hardly centimeters between them.

Kaiba retracted his body and walked straight to the front door, eyes turning back to Joey. “Come.”

Joey’s body responded to the command even though the surfacing sensations made him resistant, feeling the distance between them acting like an invisible leash that yanked his body forwards with Kaiba’s every movement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh; well I guess I was more or less disappointed with the way this chapter turned out before, and don't think that dissatisfaction has changed much. It's a repetitive, roundabout of a mess. And besides the dream sequence at the beginning, I find myself liking miscellaneous tidbits, but abhorring most of the transitioning parts. Anyways, I'm much too lazy to try and entirely restructure it, so this is how it'll stay for the time being.


	7. Subject To Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Well, this isn't a summary, but FIRST THINGS FIRST, since there wasn't any comment or a/t like that, which is what I typically make a point to respond to at the start of new chapters (if and when they're posted), I just want to give a special shout out and thank you!!!! to: 
> 
> JMarieAllenPoe 
> 
> So here goes; basically, I really, really appreciate the kudos & the fact you took the time to read this story, as well the (blowing my mind) fact you took enough interest to bookmark it :) lol even if its only b/c you're in the process of reading & just wanted to find it more easily. It still made me extremely happy to know you gave this rather unconventional, at times tiring, f.f a chance; because, although not disheartened, I honestly didn't really expect anybody to like it or pay it any mind when I decided to revamp/post it on A03. & you are officially my first reader! (is that too presumptuous? lol) if so, the FIRST reader period to leave any sort of acknowledgement. That honestly made me smile/my insanely stressful day 50x better. So thanks again! I hope you continue to read it and check back in, & that I'm able to write something you're able to enjoy :)
> 
> ~Morgan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do your best to look past my atrocious attempt to phonetically indicate the Australian accent, which to this day, I'm not sure WHY I insisted on doing this way--and tbh I actually got rid of a lot (at least I think) of the really awkward ones--or why I arbitrarily applied it in certain spoken sentences and not others, but it's a very brief part of the chapter, so if you start snoring, just hang tight, I wrap it up rather quickly. 
> 
> also, not that this will mean anything to anybody else, seeing as there isn't anything to compare and contrast it to, but I actually added quite a bit here and there in this chapter while retyping it. Mostly on Joey's parts, because as the story goes on I realize I don't delve as deeply into his background necessarily as I do Kaiba, so I was trying to make that aspect a bit more well rounded. 
> 
> The flow was a bit more choppy, but cohesive before, their paragraphs segued directly off one another's, and although I did my best to stay true to that, I found myself liking the addition of slightly lengthier transitionary topics. More interpersonal monolouge-ish than narration. Overall, this was a setting up to progress into the actual plot chapter.

**Chapter Seven: _Subject To Change._**

"Insurance Wheeler," Kaiba held an open palm sideways.

"What?"

Kaiba glanced to see his hand empty. "Health insurance-" he prompted his hand again, "You do have  _health insurance_ , don't you?"

Joey's ears felt hot, was he supposed to?

"Silly me," Kaiba sighed, pulling out a slender black wallet. "I should have known better than to even ask," he conclusively rolled his eyes before completing the necessary paperwork with diligence and efficiency. 

"Sit." Kaiba turned, pointing to a chair. "Stay," he said again, then continued to walk towards the exit.

"Hey!" Joey stood back up, "You're not even gonna wait for me?"

Kaiba stopped, clearly annoyed, "Do I look like a babysitter?"

"Well, this was  _your_ idea," Joey's eyes rolled, "So, maybe  _you_ should stay, and  _I'll_ leave."

"This is your appointment, not mine," Kaiba shrugged simply. "Now grow up and sit down, you're embarrassing yourself."

Joey's entire face burned red as he watched Kaiba's back disappear into the hallway. After pushing his sleeves up, he was about to follow when his name came from the other direction. 

"Mr. Wheeler?"

The boy paused, still seriously contemplating leaving, but then something that Kaiba had said struck him.  _"What are you complaining about? It's a win/win. Neither of us will be at risk for future complications."_

"Mr. Wheeler?" The secretary asked a second time.

Joey forced himself to turn around. "Yeah, sorry. That's me."

He followed the slender woman as she led him through another doorway to the side of her desk and down a hallway lined with six others, all evenly spaced and individually accredited. Joey's pulse quickened with each footstep, and Serenity's words beat in unison with Seto's.  _"Joey...have you thought about going to see someone?"_ Although he felt nauseous and uneasy, Joey passed the mahogany name plaque on the fifth door that read:  **Doctor Nguyen**.  _I guess it's not a **total** waste to make sure, _ he decided, growing less hostile toward participating.  _But I'm only doing it for my sister, to hell with Kaiba._

After adjusting a first time, Joey began to continuously fidget against the jade armchair, squeaking as he tried to occupy the space. All the while, his eyes fell around the room, which as aligned with bookshelves that matched the mahogany finish on the door. The shelves themselves seemed suffocated from end to end with alternating bindings; and yet, the weight didn't sink the boards downward. Something about the sense of balance made Joey's breathing easier. 

He half expected there to be a prominent desk facing him as a bisector between patient and professional, something like he imagined Kaiba would have in  _his_ office in order to isolate himself from the undeserving. Yet there was only another armchair adjacent to where he sat, almost identically positioned, with a small coffee table to the left side. The atmosphere had a curious effect, both reassuring and bothering his expectancy. 

At that moment, the door hinges creaked open, and Joey was drawn to a bespectacled, middle aged gentleman with chestnut colored hair and watery, wild-blue eyes. He shuffled into the room quietly and took a seat in the empty chair. Then, after neatly placing one leg over the other, he folded his fingers politely on his lap and smiled in Joey's direction. Instinctively, the boy was about to start drawing rather unpleasant parallels between the doctor and Kaiba when his ears picked up on a curiously familiar vernacular. 

"Good'ay mate," the man initiated energetically. "Th'name is Doc-tah Nguyen. And who mi'ght-chu be?"

This time Joey's first instinct was to burst out laughing, unable to stop picturing Valon across from him, ready to engage him about his inner most thoughts and feelings.  _I wonder if Alister and Rafael are down the hall?_ he thought humorously, but answered respectfully, and a little rigid. "Uhm, I'm Joey."

"Very well Joey! Nice t'ah make your acquaintance, see ya' here for a cognitive analysis, that right?"

"If that's what it says," Joey rolled his shoulders.

"Well, is it, or isn't it? Don't wanna' put ya' through the wrong ring'ah," he said lightheartedly. 

"I mean, I guess so," he offered with as little conviction as the first response.

"C'mon now, there's no need'tah be embarrassed—but, I'm start'en t'ah think this was someone else's idea?"

Joey glanced upward, slightly shocked that the man could deduce that from spending all but thirty seconds with him. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

The Aussie released another pleasant chuckle that continued to diffuse the tension. "Trus'me, it's not uncommon to see mate. I'mean, who honestly jumps at tha' opportunity to spend an hour with a total strange-ah?"

Joey smiled, "I guess ya' got me doc.—who?"

"Far less than you think," he smiled again, before reaching to retrieve a black,  leather portfolio with a clean legal pad inside. "It's very natural t'ah feel unreceptive towards therapeutic console, especially at the request of anoth-ah person. Sometimes," his hands moved theatrically about, "We feel threatened or offended by the idea of therapy, which causes us to assume it's-ah matter of incompetence or inability."

"Yeah," Joey agreed sheepishly without thinking, "that's kinda exactly how it feels."

"Well don't let it friend! The upside to not knowin' me, is that you have the freedom to speak openly, knowing whatever you tell me won't ev'ah backfire. And is all strictly confidential."

"Y'mean you can't tell anyone?" Joey thought reflexively to Kaiba.

"That's right. Not one person. No exceptions." 

A sudden easiness melted Joey back into his seat, "So where do we start?"

However, there's an old saying about confidentiality, and although the boys remained emotionally estranged, they were far from dead. So nothing was truly secure, and neither of them were safe.

\- - -

Under any other circumstances this would have been mindless,  _it should be mindless_ , he argued against himself, but the truth was, it was consuming him. So, like everything else in his life—he buried it. Six feet deep, far beneath the surface, without any bells attached, theoretically and historically fortifying a strategy that ensured no survivors, despite the fact the person in the casket was alive and scratching—clawing at the coffin, fingers desperate to brush against the dirt, to dig their way back out again. But without any strings attached, it should have been full proof, should have prevented any such skeletons from summoning such resonating sounds.

Kaiba tried _everything_ and  **anything** to suffocate the sensation of that awful  _thumping_ , but it was inescapable; every key his fingers fell upon played the palpitations perfectly, and even when he couldn't hear it, he could still feel it beating against the rhythm of his own. In sync regardless of how out of sight, it was never out of mind. The one thing he failed to put over matter, mental prowess stalling and sputtering in the ultimate betrayal, leaving him with little and less control over the toilsome semblance of feeling that overrode all his basic functions. 

\- - -

Joey, on the other hand, had never really acquired such an ability—his thoughts were automatic. Even if his visit with Doctor Nyugen  **had** eased his mind, it was only a temporary solution, and it brought out the darkest of his thoughts once the session subsided. Perhaps that had been the point, the objective the professionals pronounced as being emotionally progressive, however the blonde felt more like he'd fallen deeper into himself that anywhere remotely resembling forward.

His own allegorical graveyard ringing and clamoring like church bells or chimes from Cinderella's godawful stepsisters demanding the indentured servitude he could never outrun. Could never make enough surefooted strides to distance himself, could never produce a currency substantial enough to consolidate the debt necessary to set himself free from such ghosts. Unlike the brunette, his ties were not so easily cut. Instead, they were very much attached and intertwined, tugging his heart in all different directions as the tintinnabulation tore him apart.

For the first time since Joey left home, the agonizing silence left over from Tristan's unresponsiveness ate away at him, the heart felt words from Tea felt like a stone in his chest, the tremor in Yugi's tone shook his frame, and remembering Serenity made him cry uncontrollably.

He never even told her—never even said goodbye—not until it was already too late and he was miles away. Hundreds and thousands of incrementally irrecoverable miles, and even farther seeming still without the conversion from kilometers.  _What kind of person leaves their baby sister all alone? All alone in **that** place? With nobody except  **him** ; _his father.  _And that **woman** , that foreign species_; his mother. 

 _She may as well have been a shark, and him a less than trophy wall worthy bass;_  he thought spitefully, _since she took so naturally to abandoning us without a seconds thought while he quickly followed suit, adapting so quickly from parental to predatory it's sickening._  This time the blonde grimaced, the warped ugly imagery of underwater creatures wearing their faces. One swimming off and out of sight so fast she was no more than a coldhearted blur, and the other matching her speed but traveling in the opposing direction, _greedily feeding off us as his just and 'due' reward for his 'oh, so genuine efforts to nurture' and our failure to reciprocate the strength appropriate to exonerate our weakness that became his wasted expenditure of time better spent elsewhere._ His face was hot, paying no mind to the poeticism his cynicism had warped useless, leftover tidbits of intelligence into.

Seeing no merit in retained information from things as trivial as secondary biology or primary life science courses that came to mind without provocation, rather, he was more so consumed with the oceanic abyss they'd given birth in, the suffocating inability to breathe  when born to cold blooded subcategories that opposed any sense of solidarity, branching off in incompatible phylums, social classes, and orders of importance rather than sacrifice their selfishness in order to belong to that foreign concept of family.  _Fucking science_ , he shook his head,  _fucking parents, fucking useless knowledge that's getting me nowhere._

Joey sniffled, trying not to make a scene as he made his way down to the park bench he'd begun to visit religiously. The way he felt didn't require so many parallels, there was no prolific intricacy,  _I just left her_ , he collapsed into the cold metal arms on either side that extended too far to embrace him.  _Just like Mai,_ he folded forward,  _it's happening all over again._ But the rhythmic currents and cardiac collisions numbed him, the paradoxical infliction of a body indicative of his analogies that seemingly should have shaken him, should have stirred so much of that similar pain; and yet, despite the severed umbilical cord connecting the ideas, it was still a connection, deeply seeded and rooted in the epitome of innocence. It was untouchable, unalterable, and the internal longing to return to such blissful ignorance procreated this unique escape. 

That's all he wanted, to escape. Out of body. Out of awareness. After all, it was the _people_ who'd abandoned him, but the tide that had taken care of him, of them both, the inanimate currents that had concealed and carried them away, caring for them far better and more deeply than any living, breathing relative ever had. Unlike his parents, the water was endless, unconditional, and no matter how many ways it altered its state, changed its course, or tossed about its temperment, it was always waiting right where he'd left it. Without judgement, without restraint, without any words at all.

Is that what it means to love? He wondered, but the idea was suddenly sad, how did you return something like that? How could that be  _love_ when he could never reciprocate the extent of meaning to something that could not truly feel? To something too preoccupied in giving its whole self to the vulnerability and brokenness of others, whether or not they made the slightest efforts back. He frowned, Kaiba flashing through his mind with the cresting of a far off wave as slowly rolled and broke against the rocks,  _isn't it incredibly lonely?_

Another frown, more straight lined, empty and numb and conflicted in the calmest way. He wasn't ready to hold onto such heavy ideas anymore. He had to let them go. Staring straight ahead, Joey cast his thoughts in bottles, watching the waves toss them about; but they bobbed up and down, never sinking. The delicate colored glass sealed air-tight secrets, and the buoyancy kept them afloat. Each of them containing a memory, a personalized scroll for each and ever person he'd lost; but ironically, the only person he wished to cast away, was himself.

However, it was the glimmering reflections of scintillating shades of blue that refused to let Joey disappear. And even though it swallowed the rhythm of his heart, Joey wanted it to stay that way forever. But he'd grown up, he didn't belong, in truth, he never had, time did not rewind, and innocence was not capable of regain. Confusing and conflicting, the notion made no sense, lost in overlapping logic that spilled into the next in constant convergence and disconnect; but it surrounded the boy, it subdued his senses, and spiraled one particular memory endlessly. Just like the peaceful misery of Lake Michigan's meandering measures, it was a motion he couldn't refuse.

\- - -

It was almost identical to the steady strides that sang every syllable Kaiba couldn't bring himself to speak; the sounds that unsettled him, but at the same time, they were constant—they were calming. However, the subject matter was insulting, so the piece itself was choppy, and Kaiba played off pace. No matter how precisely he attempted to perfect it, this was something he couldn't define.

Joey. Truth. Himself. Change. The Past. The Present. The Unknown. 

He couldn't even put anymore sophistication into what had become an uneducated series of simple, strung together words he'd struggled enough to summarize with in the first place. It had only been a week, but something, somewhere, on the shadowy seafloor of his sunken cerulean eyes was cracking. And it was too unfamiliar for Kaiba to address. He'd already gone as far as to call the doctor's office, but felt powerless with how effortlessly the receptionist refused him. His name didn't mean anything here, but deep down, he knew it never belonged to him anyways; and suddenly that crack became a cavern, hollow, hidden, and hard to navigate.

Still, Kaiba continued blindly to find closure—but whether it was direct or vicarious, the truth was confidential, and the absence made the boy's skin feel cold. Bright fluid auras of brilliant aquamarine froze into icicles—transparent, but sharp; sturdy, but waiting to break. 

 _"Have you thought about just_  calling _him?" Mokuba_   _inquired blatantly._

_"What? Why would I do something as absurd as that?"_

_"Ohh, **I don't know**."_

_"You know I don't appreciate when you talk sarcastically to me," the brunette scoffed in order to avoid the subject._

_"No," the younger Kaiba stated, "You just don't like admitting that you're starting to care."_

Their conversation didn't last that much longer, but it ended on a good note; which was more than Kaiba could say for his overactive thoughts—thoughts which began to isolate any direct connection between Joey and himself. If they were estranged, then it discredited any emotional investment and kept it from manifesting into something it wasn't. 

"I hate him," Kaiba spoke aloud, balling his fingers into an unconfident fist, repeating the statement of malice as if it were a mantra; the words, however, fell flat under every echo, which, although eloquent, were completely empty. And as the ice began to melt against the image of rounded, hazel halos, Kaiba slammed the lid shut, casting another cold front that froze sight and sound within the arctic frost. The coffin of composure that preserved his personal remains, the subjects he shed little and less light upon; and in doing so, created an impregnable defense against the persistence of change that was never short of hellbent when it came to rearranging his physical and emotional properties in accordance with time.

 _Time changes nothing,_ he dismissed,  _it just takes and it takes, but it gives nothing back. No one counts **up** , they count **down.**_ _They wait, they break, then they act like it's some profound transformation when it's all complete bullshit,_  the brunette's jaw locked, teeth grounded and spiteful.  _They're all idiots, weak and incapable,_ forgetting the advice from his brother that had just days, even moments, ago compelled him,  _and time is nothing but the crutch that carries them._

 _So it can tick and tock till we all stop breathing,_ Kaiba sneered, as if the abstract concept was capable of taking offense,  _but that doesn't mean I'll go down with it. I won't just let it spin me around like a glass faced merry-go-round, placing me on whichever caricature it chooses, claiming its fate. **I'll** choose. I _ _won't **move** , I won't **be** moved; I won't follow behind hands that can't hold a damn thing, let alone  **me.** Back or responsible, at gunpoint or down like the rest of them._

 _Not even within arms length,_ he felt himself distancing even more expertly, too weary and skeptical and learned to get close to a cyclical circle of constant disappointments. He didn't care if that made him cold, he didn't care if that meant he was alone, blue eyes closed less convincingly,  _that was always the point._

\- - -

Inhaling deeply until the air filled his frame, Joey felt an equally icy aftertaste in the breeze. The sky was burning out, and scattered shards of light were fracturing, casting a thin shadowy veil over the reflective surface.  _Why this?_ his eyes narrowed into delicate semi-circles, "Why  _you_ ," the next words fluttered unexpectedly into the atmosphere, and Joey's anxieties were almost arousing. "I don't even like you," he swallowed his heartbeat, but he felt Kaiba so differently now. So he took an unprecedented chance. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additionally, going off my previous/original author notes, I guess around the time I updated and initially wrote chapter seven was sommeeeewhere around the time, way back when, after I'd been diagnosed with bipolar II, slash been going through a thousand medication changes and that chaotic bump in my life-lol whihhhhch, basically I deduced pretty much might explain the dramatic back and forth extremes this fic flip flops between. Albeit, opposition was always intentionally thematic and used as a plot device, howwwwever, BECOMING bipolar sort of threw me off kilter (well, the MANIFESTATION of the bipolar, to be 'medically' correct).
> 
> Anywho, that little tidbit will also partially apply to upcoming already written chapters, and is just kind of an unnecessary fun fact into why I put so much emphasis and weird personality spins on my character dynamics sometimes. Or why I'm constantly creating contrasting, conflicting, yet coexisting characteristics within their personalities and character evolution; some what of a paradox, since I myself am like three different people. So I thrive off digging deep into my interpretation of multifaceted psyches. WOO. Another 'this was way too much personal information' journal entry to whomever perchance decides or actually reads this story, let alone my essay long notations!!
> 
> and again, cause I'm a sucker for people to take the time to leave any form of feedback, seeing as I myself am I firm believer in giving something back to those writers whose works I read, another shout out and thank you to JMarieAllenPoe!! You're awesome! Thanks again


	8. A Deal With The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GAH; one of those chapters you reread as a writer and realize the redundancy of certain simple words that lack easily replaceable synonyms and you drive yourself crazy to fix and substitute them with something else only to give up and realize (or at least tell yourself hah) that most normal people don't notice half as much as you do, or think it's even REMOTELY as bothersome or 'bad' as you do. (sigh) Don't know if anyone else is like that, my sister and I both are though, so we're constantly spouting back and forth to each other the inner anguish of realizing too late we put the same word, whether in a different form or not, too close to the previous usage. 
> 
> Anywho, tried my best to swap out said dilemmas as best I could to add more variety and less repetition wherever it worked; haha albeit it'd probably be better if I just STOPPED pointing out all these things, but I'm also one of those people who goes crazy if I don't acknowledge that I ACKNOWLEDGE that I know I did so. (sigh) Just a tweak at heart I guess.

**_Ps; shit starts getting good after Chapter Eight; at least that's where I started getting really into the groove of writing a lot at one point, and from that point on are my favorite parts to start re-reading from :) Just some shameless incentive._**

* * *

  **Chapter Eight: _A Deal With The Devil._**

* * *

 

Even though he felt the rivalry burn in every centimeter of his stomach as the muscles contracted involuntarily, writhing from the scars the brunette had unknowingly left, all Joey could see were the cobalt currents that had encased him the day the sky fell down.

He had sworn to himself again and again that he had overthought the sequence of the Orichalcos crashing down around them, that he'd merely read too far into the subtle gesture, mistaking it for the disambiguation of something more. Tried to convince himself the miscalculation _had_ to be his fault somehow,  _I mean, **hell** , we'd just been trapped Ancient-Egypt-Style in stone slabs by fucking Milo Thatch—like, what even was this? Atlantis! _Joey's eyes bulged,  _of **course** I was disoriented. I lost my fucking soul to the Crocodile Hunter for crying out loud,_ he shook his head absurdly, somewhat evidently to avoid admitting it had been the other way around because he couldn't bear to admit that he'd sacrificed his soul for  _her_. 

Except deep down he knew he was lying to himself, because in a lot of ways, he brought the subject to attention anyways by telling himself NOT to think about it. Dragging the whole idea even more readily to mind until he was completely unable to  disengage it. To dismiss the mixture of anguish and uncertainty once it melted into guilt. A subtle sense of shame that arose and tangled into a complex he'd do anything to exonerate, to unblur the emotions that never belonged together, the memories that meshed and filled his head with questions he would never know the answers to. It's not like he wanted to forget her... But it was confusing...Whenever he felt the pain of Mai being stolen straight from his life...because it was Kaiba's face that he tried to blink away.

 _Whatever, it was probably nothing at all anyways,_ Joey tried again to excuse it,  _at least I had a soul to recover in the first place, Kaiba was probably just running low on batteries,_ he rolled his eyes at the exaggeration, but the robotic motions that usually entertained him only drew the brunette more deeply into his thoughts. 

 _I mean, he's the last person I thought would care if I chose to go back or not; if anything, I was surprised that Roland hadn't already arrived and set up a 'Going Away' celebration just for the occasion,_ he heaved a deep sigh, continuing to follow the directions scribbled on the back of his hand. It was no use though, even Joey knew that was hyperbolizing to overcompensate for the fact he preferred to see Kaiba as inhuman. But there was definitely a heartbeat behind the way the brunette's eyes opened eclectically, widening into such transfixing spheres that were unfamiliar in comparison to the condescending, cat-like slits that so often watched him. He had willingly exposed his features towards Joey, and Joey specifically, and they were not secretive or sharp, they cast child-like vibrancies that clouded with the kind of concern he expected from Mokuba, but never his brother.

 _He's never really looked at me,_ Joey felt the intensity of Kaiba's mysteriously compelling, yet enigmatic eyes fall over him in contrasting shades of dark and bright blue,  _not through his actual eyes at least._

Not that he really cared to analyze the intricate waves that seemed to change their color, but he was usually pretty good at noticing little things about people. The fact that he'd known Kaiba for years though, and never once noticed that several shades of blue occupied his lenses made Joey feel sort of sad. The way those auras were ringed with multicolored layers made him think about how many tidal waves had beat such shallow puddles down into the oceanic depths that swallowed his attention in one effortless gulp, becoming trapped within the hypnotic holds of the darkening spectrum. 

I guess he didn't really know anything about Kaiba's personal life, besides that he and Mokuba were adopted, but Joey had always disregarded becoming Bill Gates overnight as a "hardship," and so he never really put much consideration into the words he spat back. Wondering now if any of them had ever gotten farther than the surface level as the unique coloration processed and recorded the information. Except he doubted it, because Kaiba had always gone out of his way to be an ass, so it was certainly not like he  _couldn't_ interact with people, he just never did it nicely unless it concerned something important. 

He almost kicked himself for the comparison, but he really did feel sort of unworthy, and somewhat jealous, of how Kaiba's eyes looked like a pure bred husky and his were mangy and inconsistent, just like the mix breed Kaiba always addressed him as. He wondered how dull he must look to eyes that can tear right through people, or how powerless and dark. Joey actually sort of envied that Kaiba's gaze said everything and yet absolutely nothing with such intimidation, and as usual, under his complete and unhindered confidence and control. 

Joey sighed, he used to _like_ that his eyes were darker, so that nobody knew the anxieties that emptied them, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how helpless it looked to Kaiba, how completely weak and inferior. It was an awful feeling that stirred, and he degraded his own qualities now without the brunette there to amuse himself with his insults that were always so cavalier and perfectly timed. And he wondered if the other boy knew that what he was really hiding from behind smoke screens was  _him_. I mean, his own father didn't make him feel as worthless as Kaiba could; the brunette could ruin his whole day with a single word, sometimes less, and Joey felt a awkward dependency form around these controversial memories as they transposed with whatever did or didn't happen the night they discovered they were living in the same place. 

Whatever terrible twist had fated this was something so cruel and unusual that Joey referenced it as  _Kaiba Karma,_ a term he'd coined years ago as the only possible reason these awful interactions always surfaced when he did nothing to provoke them. The whole thing was like a bad reunion spin off, Joey was the immature flunky and Kaiba was the valedictorian mastermind, and as much as it hurt to remind himself, replaying their dedicated rivalry, like a marathon in his head, was the only way Joey felt significant. Leaning subconsciously towards someone he'd never had a real conversation with, but who had confirmed, in a single night, without his recollection, that Joey wasn't capable of taking care of himself. 

After a week of trying to write it off, his tactics had proved useless; somehow Seto Kaiba had surfaced in the exact same town as Joey—which meant they'd both left home around the same time. So, no matter how much Kaiba insulted or disregarded things like fate when they were in public, there was no way in hell that this was a coincidence.  _It has to mean something,_ he trailed hesitantly up the steps,  _because_ **he** _came and checked on_ **me** _. He took me to get_ ** _help_ , **Joey shook his head confusedly at the fact Seto Kaiba had paid his medical bills under no real obligation; because the brunette knew that Joey couldn't have afforded a lawyer to sue him in the first place, and Kaiba knew he didn't have the balls to try and take him to court.  _So there has to be a reason, because it doesn't make any fucking sense_ , he thought agitatedly, letting his fist fall against the door; he needed someone right now, and whether or not it was canon—they had a history. And without Duel Monsters to drive the competitive wedge between them, there really wasn't any reason for them to be so resentful, because besides in competition, they had never spoken, let alone done anything to offend the other so vindictively—and Joey couldn't help but hope that maybe Kaiba was as lost and lonely as he was right now. 

Balancing a conference call between his ear and his shoulder, Kaiba was struggling to light up a cigarette when his door reverberated.  _"M-th-r fu-k-r_ ," he mumbled incoherently, pulling the object from between his lips, hoping no one else on the line had heard. 

"Mr. Kaiba?"

"Yes. I'm still here," the brunette spoke accordingly, fastening his robe around his torso while he approached the door in agitation, wondering who the hell could have been looking for him at this time of night. 

On the opposite side, Joey's chest pounded and his hands felt clammy, he was nervous as hell. To put lightly. To put  _very_ lightly. In truth, he was all but completely losing his shit. Not to mention, his 'plan,' in its entirety, had been so impulsive that he'd never even thought of what to say. Holding his breath, there was a soft creaking, and the knob twisted. 

"...Listen Rob, I'm going to have to call you back," the executive clicked off the call, staring at the blonde unpredictably. 

"Uhm, hi?" Joey asked awkwardly, trying not to stare at the toned patch of flesh exposed between the loose fitting terrycloth. 

"Didn't you read the sign in the lobby, Wheeler? No animals allowed."

The uncouth banter sparked a little of Joey's confidence as he grinned, "Y'know, I was wondering if you put that up just for me."

Blue eyes rolled back, "Just get inside before someone sees you."

\- - - 

"Evicted already?" Seto entertained sarcastically once the blonde was inside. 

"Wouldn't you love that," Joey replied. 

"Did you follow me home or something?" Kaiba redirected with a  risen brow. 

"I didn't have to," his lips pulled into a side grin, "you took care of that for me when you signed off as my emergency contact."

"So where's the fire?" the brunette turned towards the living room disinterestedly. 

"Aren't you a stand up citizen," Joey followed facetiously. 

Kaiba ignored the remark, folding one leg over the other, "Will you please tell me what in god's name you're doing in my apartment right now?"

"I wanted to see you," Joey's eyes looked up innocently. 

"You wanted...to see me?"

"Well, yeah."

"Why?" his face fluctuated uncertainly. 

"Because we're both in the same situation right now, and I think you need this," Joey's response left his lips before he had the chance to think how concerned it sounded. 

"So, why would I need  _you_?" he stared confused, trying to rationalize the situation. 

"I don't know, maybe because you don't have any friends?"

"So?" Kaiba glared, not reacting to the sadness he really felt at that moment. The deja-vu—not the first time the other boy had said such things straight to is face. And not the first time he'd felt that same sting. 

"So," Joey stammered quietly, "you're alone."

"You're always alone," Kaiba generalized, "It's natural."

"How is that natural?"

Kaiba was both intrigued and offset by Joey's sudden inclusive nature. To be honest, he'd never thought of himself as "belonging" to anything. He understood that reality was not sugarcoated, that the world was cruel and imbalanced. "Because all you have is yourself Wheeler, when it comes down to it, that's all you ever have." Bad things happened to make you stronger, and Kaiba wasn't used to this inability of control that caused those same things to weaken his defenses, unsure of how Joey could stand in his apartment, after everything, and still try to extend his hand. "Relationships complicate everything."

"So does being alone," Joey countered. 

"Maybe for people like you," Kaiba stuck up his nose prominently, "I'm too busy to concern myself with such frivolity."

"I think we both know that's a lie."

"And I think you should learn to hold your tongue."

Joey's eyes pierced, "You know Kaiba, that's your problem," the words struck his adversary, "you don't listen to anyone."

"Because I don't need to, I don't need to listen—I'm the one giving orders," he folded his arms, "I make my own rules. It's the only way to ensure everything goes accordingly, which is why I can't even conceive what set you're following right now."

"Cause there aren't any to follow," Joey leaned forward, propped against his knees, "Don't you get it? Life isn't a business deal Kaiba."

"Correction, my life  _is_ business," Kaiba systematically argued. "They are identical in every aspect, every day has its own agenda, and every conversation is a negotiation. Your decisions are like deals that risk or wage success, and financial security is a measure of achievement."

"And just when I think you can't get anymore shallow," Joey sighed.

Kaiba sounded almost offended, "I'm not shallow. I'm just not insecure, so I don't  _need_ anything."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Joey shrugged.

The motions perturbed the executive, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought you knew everything?" Joey replied provokingly.

Seto huffed, "If you came here just to play games Wheeler, then the door is still where you left it. I don't have time for this."

"See!" Joey exclaimed, "You can't even spend ten seconds with someone without losing your temper. So maybe you've got everyone else fooled, but don't bullshit a bullshitter—I don't think you're half as confident as you pretend to be."

"You forget your place dog. You have no room to be condescending, me—insecure? Look who's talking."

"Yeah, maybe I don't have a fancy ass house to hide behind," Joey spoke resentfully, "But you said security is material—if that's true then you're set, right? So why are you  _here_?" he accused, "Why run away from all your accomplishments?"

The brunette's posture stiffened, and Joey didn't quite know what it meant when he didn't say anything back. Instead, staring directly into Joey's eyes, Kaiba felt his sight straying absently.  _This isn't his style_ , Joey noted; such a silence was like an uncharted realm to the blonde, an untouched area that instantly became open for interpretation. He was unable to gather his own thoughts long enough to establish an opinion, but the emptiness was  _something_ , and to Joey, it did not go unnoticed. 

Clearing his throat, Joey sought to take an incredibly pivotal risk, but he couldn't go back to being alone. "I have a proposition for you."

The disoriented duelist regained his situational awareness and Kaiba's confused eyes refocused. "What?"

"You said it yourself, life is like a running a business, right?" Joey asked hypothetically, "And I'm cutting you a deal."

Kaiba's nose furrowed, " _Proposing_ ," he corrected, "You're  _proposing_ a deal. You can't cut a deal unless you have an advantage over the competition."

" _Whatever_ ," Joey sighed. "Now let me finish, this is a presentation, not a negotiation. Honestly, where are you business ethics now?"

The brunette scoffed and folded his arms tightly while his brain became calculative and strategic as it switched into a mode of professionalism. "I'm listening."

"Well, I  _propose_ ," he intentionally emphasized out of spite, "that we spend a week together, and if after one week you can prove to me that someone else can't make the  _slightest_ difference, then I promise I will leave you alone."

"Offer rejected."

"Why?"

Kaiba's eyes narrowed, "It's the first rule of business, never accept what you can't gain from."

"Nice try smart ass," Joey's lips curled up, "You can't know that if you never tried it before."

"Call it intuition Wheeler."

Joey sighed, "Okay, fine, I understand Kaiba, if you can't handle that type of commitment then you could've said so." Joey turned to leave coaxingly, "I mean, it's not your fault that you're too scared to take a chance, but I never thought  _The Great Seto Kaiba_ was such a coward." Joey shrugged again thoughtfully, "I guess I'd do the same if I knew I'd lose."

The hairs on the back of Seto's neck prickled. "What did you say to me?"

Joey turned around disinterested, "I said that'd you'd  _lose_."

Kaiba's entire face burst into a fit of rage, "I  _never_ lose."

"Prove it."

"I plan to!"

"Then I can count on seeing you tomorrow?"

"You can count on having your ass handed to you is what you can count on Wheeler."

"Let the game begin," Joey closed the door behind him, relishing in such an unprecedented victory.  _Hook line and sinker,_ he smiled triumphantly. Who knew that to hunt down the top of the food chain, all you had to do was tie the bait to a tree?

 _That was easy. **Too** easy,_ Joey thought intriguingly,  _just what are you hiding behind that mask Kaiba?_ The wind blew curiously along the lakefront as the blonde tried to fathom the extent of how far he'd taken this discovery. Seto Kaiba was the last person Joey ever wanted to think about, but he was the only thing that came to mind. He was the last person he ever wanted to see again, but he was the only person he'd seen since. He continued to saunter down the inclining meanders of grass and concrete, watching as the powerful gusts tossed the still, watery surface about. As powerfully as the currents resisted, the wind persistently blew them off course. With this new trial run in place, the duelists decidedly embarked on an uncertain sea. They were no longer  _Game Masters_ , but Captains, trying to navigate through a temperamental territory. The tides were restless and the glittering surface disguised the depths that they were now at the mercy of. Traveling in separate vessels, both boys had composed a crew of different strengths, testing and challenging the undertow in order to keep the baggage they harbored afloat. Joey came from the east, raising his mast to the prospects of exploration, while Kaiba wearily wandered from the west with his anchor still dragging below, unwilling to trust where the waters would take him. 

They positioned themselves with alternating expectations, but their destination would be the same. 


	9. Interactions and Collisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check out notes to clear up some potential confusion of last vs first name usage for Kaiba; addressing a past problem I ran across with this story. 
> 
> Kind of rant-esque though, my bad, the explanation that is, chances are if you come across the confusion you'll clear it up on your own as you continue reading. It becomes more thematic and intricately expanded upon as the story goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY; I moved the clarification to the 'end notes,' because I realized as I was typing that I DO go into a contextual esque explanation of said issue, so I don't want to offset you with my 'I haven't slept in a few days' rambling overlapping logic. If you still find yourself thinking s/t seems off with the deliberate use of Seto VS Kaiba in parts of this chapter; refer to them lol they'll be helpful..I thi--hope....?
> 
> It's pretty obvious though when it's symbolic versus when it's simple word choice. I don't think it'll be too big of an issue.

** *Not gonna lie; felt the need to put this here b/c despite my cluster fuck of more or less redundant author notes; this chapter is DEFINITELY one of my favorites. And where I feel like this story starts to really come into its own, it's honestly where I usually start whenever I want to reread it before working on new chapters; hopefully you guys will be able reciprocate the sentiment :) enjoy* **

* * *

_**Chapter Nine: Interactions and Collisions** _

* * *

 Kaiba stared unflinchingly at the front door, feeling the in sync flutter of his lashes against each other as the echoing of Joey's footfalls grew more and more faint. The cigarette that he'd previously been struggling to light now sat stunted and extinguished under an unbroken inch of ash, and the stale, bitter scent wrinkled the CEO's nose distastefully. Somewhere in the back of his thoughts he was trying to retrace how he'd begun a negotiation with his CFO, in regards to an over sea's shareholder, who they had been courting for months with this big investment deal—only to find _himself_ the one courted after unknowingly settling upon Joey's terms of agreement. He was dizzy and feeling just a little sick as his thumb and forefinger rose to the bridge of his nose. _I needed to secure our numbers for this quarter_ , Kaiba grumbled, _not a new friend to play with._

In truth, the company was starting to slip up without his presence there to reenforce the work environment—whether it was a boost in morale or simply a product of intimidation—but there was little and less he could do about it from here. Still, however reluctant, there was admittedly some sort of spark left behind from this latest development. It lingered almost nostalgically, if you will, even long after the length of hallway outside his door had grown silent. It wasn't like him to put something as fruitless as Joey in front of his livelihood; and yet, here he found himself sliding shamelessly back into his oldest rivalry. _He certainly hasn't changed a bit,_ he regarded: Outspoken, overconfident, and too quick to ever realize that Seto was already two steps ahead. Albeit, he himself was getting a little rusty, but what better way to sharpen back up his edges than with a little practice? That's all Joey ever really was, right?—just practice.

_Wheeler may be feeling all high and mighty_ , he dismissed the lingering suspicion of inferiority, _but I wouldn't expect anything less from someone who thinks they've already won_. In that instant though, a dull wave of heat flashed across his face, and his mental monitoring system played back Joey's closing argument. _"If you can't handle that type of commitment then you could've just said so. I mean, it's not your fault that you're too scared to take a chance, but I never thought **The Great Seto Kaiba** was such a coward..."_ The cool, cocky confidence of that infamous lazy smirk had caused his blood to boil, but in the end the blonde had done nothing more than provoke him—and that was the point, wasn't it? You couldn't practice until you found a fight, and what better use could the CEO have for this uncertainty than to twist it and give it shape?

It was certainly far from the solution he'd set out to find, but it became his only solution the second Joey stepped through the door. _Business is doing well enough to take a hit,_ he reassessed spreadsheets of their sales figures in his head. _I'll let Rob handle this one; he's twice my age but doesn't have even half my experience_. _It will be a good move for the company,_ he decided strategically, _and an even better move for me..._

"I do need this," the brunette sighed after contemplating Joey's accusations unwillingly; but the other boy had not been so far off from the truth. Kaiba was as bored as he was friendless, but it wasn't the latter that concerned him; no, he had come into this world alone and he'd always known he would leave in the same way. The former, however, had been as infectious as madness—yet now, here was Wheeler, clear as day, offering Seto a cure. This perfect outlet to remedy the spark in his chest and channel the flow of electricity into a conductor, and he could think of no better opponent than the one he'd been through the most with. Yugi was always acclaimed as his rival, but he'd earned such titles only by association. Those losses served merely as black and purple bruises on the CEO's ego, but every reoccurring duel with Joey was like a fist crashing into his face and left the taste of blood in-between his teeth. He reigned victorious practically by default, but then there was Joey again, standing in his way like he always was. There had never been any humility or advantage to their duels, so why did Kaiba always find himself agreeing to them?

Even half a world away and it _still_ wasn't far enough to change that fact. The game was foreign, but the brunette accepted it all the same. There was just something about it, something mnemonic that withdrew his hesitation to proceed. Perhaps it was the evidence of how dramatically ironic their chanced collision was that was lulling Seto back down into himself, but Kaiba knew better than to believe that.

He was just too smart not to see though such obvious lies—even the ones he told to himself; but that knowledge he'd acquired had come with a price, and the price of ignorance had cost Kaiba the chance of bliss. It was too funny really, whenever he stopped to think about it—because he'd spent a lifetime running away from what would always be apart of him: The Truth. By itself, it almost sounds innocent, but once you took a bite, you were bound to it. The consequence of knowing was like being permanently indebted to acknowledgement, and Seto had never forgotten since he himself once dared to understand.

Melting backwards into silky sheets, Kaiba lazily reached out to pull an empty glass closer. It must have been sitting next to his alarm clock for days judging by the flat smell of stale whiskey, but it would suffice to serve as an ashtray all the same. As a rule of thumb, smoking was usually prohibited past Seto's bedroom door, because he preferred to keep his sheets free of ashes and his suits smelling clean with a spurt of cologne as opposed to carcinogens. _One cigarette won't hurt anything though,_ he justified to himself, taping the glowing tip against the inside of the glass, _well, besides my dishes that is_ , he observed as the clump of ash broke the thin, discolored layer of film and drifted apart as it sank and dissolved.

He turned away from the putrid, half-empty-ash-cup with an unburdened sigh though, and chose to focus on the one opposite his cigarette hand that was still more than half full. The drink was well deserved after the night he'd been having, and the pleasure of a well awaited cigarette was too sweet to deny himself. _The simple things,_ the CEO shut his eyes. _The things that make the most sense without demanding any words at all_. Although he knew that most were quick to call him flashy, extravagant, or even vain, he often wondered if it would amuse them to know how he used them purely to protect himself; or, if instead, would they pity him, and say it wasn't his fault?

That was stupid too though, and he knew the people and the place he once adopted as his own would never bear any love for him.  _I was only six_ , he thought sadly, _I didn't...understand..._

They would need to know him to love him, but Seto had given up that truth to create a false one in its stead. He knew it could never replace reality, but it would bend and distort perception, so he wore it just like skin; or maybe it was just his features, like a mask he'd worn so long he could no longer find where the farce ended and where his face began. That part wasn't always as bad as it sounded though, it wasn't like he had ever really _gone_ anywhere; they had just given him a different name is all. But it was the only one the world knew him by, and from a young age, Kaiba decided it was _that_ simple, and it always could be. Just because he couldn't forget didn't mean everyone else needed to be reminded. The truth was too infectious, and it spread to too many unwanted places, too quickly, while its outbreak becomes contagious. An epidemicity without remedy, no way of curing the disproportionality of the inflicted, or the damage amassed through their inflicting. The extent of which was unforgiving. So why panic the masses, why live amidst the infected when he could go one step further and eradicate the strain? There was no need for second opinions or alternative methods. The only practical solution to such a threat was to quarantine himself to a life of unchanging simplicity.

From that day on, the rest of the world saw only what he wanted them to, but there were no hidden complexities behind his behaviors. They were as deep as the amount of consideration people put into their opinions of the pretentious young prodigy, and took half as long to convince everyone that they were true than the truth would have. Really, that belief had been the point, the single objective that made everything he'd ever done so simple. The knowledge that allowed him to cleanse the guilt of claiming to be someone he'd been required to create. _You're always alone._ _I told him_ , Kaiba thought drowsily as his cigarette hissed into a simper and the slippery slosh of ice and alcohol served to loosen the hinges that so frequently rusted into place. _That's why we do this,_ he considered, in a way that may almost have been empathetic if he was ever going to act on it, _because it's all we have left to stand between us and the world now._ The mutt may have been too happy-go-lucky to see it, but they were both living in empty shells that they'd outgrown with time. _Did they forget to mention that to normal people too, Wheeler?_ He wondered, both blue eyes shutting to grasp the blonde's features. _That all that one-size-fits-all crap is total shit?_

This made the lines in his frown crease even more sadly though when it struck him so softly that Joey had no clue. Had he ever known anything other than the face they plastered on the sides of card shops, or the official pin-up posters that adoring boys and girls alike lined their bedroom walls with? Or is all of this just his desperate attempt to catch his breath because he's finally starting to realize all the oxygen has dissolved and there's no breathing room left in that shell of his?

Scrunching his nose up tightly, something too akin to feeling filled his chest, twisting and contorting unfamiliarly inside a locked cell where it did not belong. He had to remember to be careful when allowing his simplicity to twist his thoughts, else they may just prove too frank once he wrung them out again. The line between the two cousins was a thin one, upon which truth and simplicity were always dancing, and every once in awhile they got the best of him. The part he kept out of the prison his person had become in hopes that it would neither grow nor be outgrown. Yet, the stunted, twisted truth wriggled painfully, regardless, and wouldn't let a simple disadvantage of size take away its right to live and breathe on its own accord; and it was hard to ignore that it left its host at the mercy of its resolutions.

In this case, it decidedly sought out the closest thing it could find, and the safest available escape route. It was true what he'd said about being alone, and knew it was simply why people grew up and outgrew a constant shedding layer of skin. It was because who you are is never good enough—people don't want the truth, they want to decide it for themselves—and they couldn't care less who you really are when they've already figured out exactly who they want you to be. And _that_ much he could allow himself to agree that Joey and he had in common; though such a comparison did not soften the CEO's edges enough for him to feign loneliness, nor did his honesty lead him to admit inadequacy by claiming to be in need of assistance when he did not require it. He had no love for Joey, but he saw nothing to gain from lying about what was plainly going on— _The world is changing outside the one we both lived in for so long, and it doesn't know who we are anymore...Duel Monsters is just a shade, and we're nothing more than the shadows we cast after we step outside ourselves and into the light_. But it was clear to him now that it made no difference how hard or how bright the beams shone as they rose above and broke off the features that no longer fit, because in the end it had left both of them blind to what the other had lost; and Kaiba began gritting his teeth at the reality that he was, if nothing else, _lost._

—Stumbling around clumsily, groping around in the darkness that once seemed so familiar before this city shone a light down and exposed all the carefully placed baggage he used to think made him invisible. He had chosen bitter characteristics in the past because it was the easiest way to instill a sense of security—there was too much risk in exposing yourself to people that simply avoiding them altogether could solve. It was simple, and no one ever saw through to something else because it was all he had armored himself with. Now, however, he found himself tripping over suitcases full of secrets and trunks so deep they could swallow you. And all the while, it had been so unnerving for Kaiba to feel all these new eyes falling curiously over him and not knowing what it is they saw. But when Joey had come to him earlier, with his sweet words and slick smiles, Kaiba knew _exactly_ what he saw. _He saw home. He saw hope. He saw himself._

Sometimes the light was tricky like that, it illuminates and it eliminates, and then plays our sight false with shadows; but where light casts shades, it can just as easily cast reflections instead. So when Joey had come to him and tried to look forward, towards what he believed was change—it was simply the distracting shimmer off a pair of eyes that saw no further than the past. To each other, Kaiba and Joey were no more estranged that when they'd first met; the world they were in now may have shown sides of them differently, but they would always see each other exactly the same. It was easier to hold onto the last remaining pieces than it was to admit the rest was gone. However, it began to discomfort the brunette the more he remembered that Joey was hanging on because its probably he first time he's ever had to push himself off a cliff before, and he has no idea what's down there. 

But Seto had leapt from the precipice and crash-landed onto a cliff, broke every bone as he free fell to the floor of rock bottom, then sank into the subterranean before clawing his way back to the surface and crawling back up to the summit...It may have been the alcohol in that instant, but Kaiba realized he didn't have the heart left in him to tell the other boy that you have to go through all of that just to jump back off again...that the falling never stopped, and some part of you was always broken...

A wince of pain shot through his spine, and Kaiba pushed the glass in his hand away. Earlier it seemed so full of possibility, and he let the intoxicating elixir provoke the potential of this rouse, but now that all the ice cubes had melted and displaced the balance, Kaiba had never felt so empty than as he watched his certainty diluting into watered down drink that was too hard to swallow.

* * *

Joey hadn't faired much differently than the CEO, only leaving the sight of his apartment building behind long enough for the reality to sink in, and begin to pull him down beneath his thoughts. Half of him was still high off the idea that he'd finally outfoxed Kaiba, and the other half was slowly coming down to realize the effects were only temporary. He may have won the battle, but he would need to remember that the fight wasn't over until one of them won the war. What war? Joey could not honestly say, but it was always a safer bet to expect gunfire from Kaiba than it was to seek good tidings. There may have been no real reason behind this self-styled feud they both remained so dedicated to, but there had always been a tension between them. For as long as Joey could remember.

Sometimes it felt like heat and other times energy, but both could be transferred just as easily between the duelists. Even the slightest brush of contact could spark enough friction to set the two of them on fire, and they had proved that well enough over the years. _Maybe that's why they tell you never fight fire with fire_ , he thought as he examined the absentminded motions of his fingers against the lighter, _because everything just burns_...although, in some backwards way, Joey had learned to like the sensation of heat swelling through his muscles. It was much better to feed off the flames, he'd decided, than it was to freeze to death should they go out. There was nothing worse than the sensation of ice, crackling and freezing the flow of warmth throughout the chambers of the heart; it reminded him too much of dying, it reminded him of the damp, clammy weightlessness that deprived him of his will to live, and turned his heart to stone.

_I won't ever go back there,_ he thought with a shiver through his core that did little to reassure him. He'd barely survived it the first time around and, even then, it was really Kaiba who had melted the restraints of death away so easily, not Joey. Which had left part of him frozen, somewhere deep down where inclement temperatures kept the truth from thawing and melting away. Instead, it sat inside his body like a kidney stone, and no matter how painful it got, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, or push it out of the way—it refused to pass.

Instead, it grew and grew, snowballing into a fortress that was slowly fighting to freeze the blonde from the inside out; and he'd already gone so numb that laying down and letting sleep take him didn't sound half as bad as watching himself shatter. For who would be there to pick up all his pieces? Would anyone really be that surprised? Would someone cry for him anywhere? Or would everyone just shrug it off like it's been a long time coming?  Sighing, he turned over on his side to face the wall and decided he'd rather not know the answers. Rather, he continued to coax his lighter into a faint and heatless flicker, as if maybe it could at least bring some feeling back into his fingers. It had been so long since he'd last felt alive, and Kaiba had ignited him like warm weather in January—only enough to give him hope before vanishing back beneath the endless weeks of frost. It wasn't enough but it was all Joey could do to save himself, by trying to fan the flame he'd sparked and keep it from going out completely.

How long could he really keep that up though when Kaiba had gone colder than ice? Replacing his fiery charge with an impersonal magnetism that pulled them conjointly, despite the resistance, but wobbled unfittingly as they forced their way together, only to rip furiously apart from one another the second they touched. How could he ever hope to restore the life support when he couldn't even get close enough to inspect the damage? Kaiba agreed, much to Joey's surprise, and he would hold true to his word, Joey knew, but that left how seriously he would take it to debate. Perhaps, in the end, it would be the biggest mistake he ever made, and Kaiba would simply trample over him and emerge unscathed and victorious as he always did; while Joey laid down like a dog with his tail between his legs. Defeated, abandoned, and all prior reservations over his own inconsequentiality reappraised and proven rightfully harbored; value depreciated and inherently nonexistent...

_...He'd like that, wouldn't he.._. 

The thought alone was enough to start compiling all the ingredients of a panic attack, and the pressure began to knead his heart muscles, causing sudden sharp shocks of pain throughout his ribs. _Please no_ , he groaned clenching his shirt, as if to prevent the pain from escalating, _not tonight._ But begging for this to cease was like begging Kaiba to make sense. There were no answers, he simply had to let them run their course.

Perhaps, if he was fortunate enough, they would play out in his favor, _but I'm not really about to stake my life on it_ , Joey thought in an increasing panic, reaching out clumsily to shuffle a slender orange container with a white, child-proof cap towards himself. Turning it around thoughtfully in his fingers first, Joey's ears were met with the soft tapping of small yellow ovals shifting against the see through sides of the bottle as the pills shuffled and slid through the space. Every time he completed a rotation, one side of the bottle was like a little window, tinted the color of negatives, and the other was wallpapered with a large white label that described its contents. At the top, in small, black and bold print read his full name from first to last, and beneath it instructions, " _ **TAKE ONE TABLET BY MOUTH THREE TIMES DAILY,"**_ in all caps. And although Doctor Nyguen assured him they were perfectly safe, Joey still didn't feel right about ingesting this strange, bitter tasting prescription.

The first time he'd taken it, the doctor told him to let the pill dissolve beneath his tongue instead of his swallowing right away. Joey nearly wretched up his breakfast, he'd never tasted something so disgusting before. Like disintegration and sadness. Nauseating and unsettlingly textured, equivalent to how he imagined it would feel eating chalk, immediately skeptical as to how something so intolerable could possibly even be edible, let alone intended to _alleviate._

_ "Well ya'aren't taken'em t'ah taste good now are y'ah?" the man smiled warmly, a certain familiarity with the reaction emulating in Joey's scrunched up expression once he'd placed it under his tongue. _

_ " **Bleck** ," the boy shook his head, cringing as the solid shape beneath his taste buds began to dissolve and lose shape. It was horrifying.  How tangible and unpleasant and instantaneously horrible something so small and seemingly harmless could be. How he could feel it spread with the saliva, which took on an almost metallic taste as the pill was eventually left sitting in a wet, mushy clump that the blonde could no longer stomach. _

_Already nauseous and ready to spit it right onto the floor, he reached out for a glass of water, but found it mixing in with the cold, bitterness of metal, and somehow the corrosive revulsion leftover in his mouth had actually **enhanced** amidst the emulsion and escalated to amount to an even cheaper, watered down aftertaste. "Yeahh," Joey breathed in deeply, looking to the shrink unconvinced, "Do I **always** have to take them like that?" _

_ "Ah'course not," he smiled, "but now that'ya have, the next time you get'ah buggah of an attack, ya'll know tha fastest way t'ah fix it." _

_Although the sweet blanket of darkness that started to swallow all feeling should have been an obvious enough answer, Joey found himself asking anyways. "How exactly is it the fastest?" _

_ "Well, ya'see, the chemicals act'tually start working fast'ah than when swallowed, because they dissolve directly inta' the blood stream, rath'ah than having t'ah wait for your stomach to digest and break down tha' compounds, after which tha're absorbed and metabolized by the live'ah before finally moving into tha' bloodstream," the doctor's speech became more flippant, shuffling between basic and better informed logic based on the stages onsetting in the boy's face. _

_ "In short," he clapped his hands with another amusedly reassuring smile, " Ya' should already be feel'n the medication as we speak, and that's because tha' delivery route is bypassing all those steps in the middle in'ordah t'ah ent'ah the brain directly." Doctor Nguyen explained, his annunciation selectively slower and spaced out to accommodate for the side effects. "We call this method 'Sublingual Administration,' as opposed to the traditional oral, or 'Enteral Administration', which comes with its own respective delays, processes, and contributing factors, taking anywhere from thirty to forty-five minutes to take full affect..." he tapered off as slightly constricted pupils searched for structure in all he was saying. _

_ "Tha' way I like to think about it," he cleared his throat, "is that sublingual's kind'ah similar sounding t'ah 'subliminal,' and 'enteral' to 'entrance' or entry; so since just as it takes'ah person time to gain entry, so do the drugs require time, while the 'sublingual', or 'subliminal' directly influences tha' mind in such a way you don't even notice, which accounts for the immediacy, already hard at work before ya' even realize its there in the first place." _

_ Watching intently with heavy eyes and a blank mind that contradictorily continued to wander, he hadn't absorbed a single thing except the pale yellow oblong that left subtle traces beneath his tongue; the bitterness turned beautiful that lingered intoxicatingly_ — _entrancing and instantaneous. "Because they dissolve directly inta' the blood stream," the delayed echoing of phantom words lagged somewhere in his subconscious, a brief fraction of the extensive information ghosting in waves long enough to satisfy his initial curiosities. _

_That much Joey had begun to figure out, approximately twenty words into the **Pharmasuitcals For Dummies ** speech, and long before the words began to fall away into the monotonous drone of the lectures he never listened to, at that place called school he never attended, and the rest was just noise. Answers practically supplying themselves in the short time it took to provide them, his entire mind swept clean, a sensation akin to falling in love, calamity, catastrophes, and even Kaiba, all reduced to this commonplace that was of little consequence to the blonde. They couldn't hurt him here, a thin smile upturning, _even you, _he thought reflexively,_ even you're no competition _, and for a split second the satisfaction fell insincerely into this sad sort of sympathy for the duelist that had built his reputation around being the very best, because Joey had gained a chemical advantage that couldn't be unaltered no matter how skilled or thoroughly seasoned,_ there's no card in your deck for this Kaiba.

You miscalculated, you're out of moves.

_ A calmness unlike any in the world encased him like a weightless armor. _

** You lose. **

Doctor Nguyen called it _Alprazolam,_ he pressed down on the lid with his palm, twisting until the cover gave way; and Sam called them _Xanax,_ he recalled, fingering out several ovals before tossing them to the back beneath the blanket of his tongue; but to Joey, they were _Miracles._

* * *

The sun seemed to shine symmetrically through skewed horizontal vanes of inexpensive vinyl, partially reflected and partially refracted as it passed between the transparency of the window pane into the cigarette stained air on the other side in the blonde's apartment; creating an adjacent stream of light leading to the air mattress and beaming like a high intensity laser from hell, heatedly cascading over Joey's face in a wave of golden rays. One pill in the morning, however, filled him with such an overwhelming sense of serenity that the heat caressed him like a lover. So warm and so tender that he'd rather lay forever in its arms than get up to embrace the cold emptiness that awaited him once he'd left the sanctity of his pillows. A lazy cat-nap wasn't likely to hurt anything anyways, he excused, it was still way too early.

Besides, if _The CEO of the World_ was sincerely going to follow through tonight, then Joey could certainly use all the heat his body could possibly savor before Kaiba greeted him with the inevitability of a cold front as watery blue eyes altered on instinct and those icy irises emerged to freeze the him back over. Frostbitten and at least a foot deep in the fortifications of an enemy that would never fall short of formidable. He'd always been like that, so serious, so self-assured, so effortlessly skilled it never ceased to make Joey sick whenever he thought about the other boy. So backwardly brilliant, but somehow never smart enough to quite figure out that whole ' _how to be human_ ' thing. So set apart from everything else that sometimes Joey used to think he seemed more like royalty than an ordinary boy, an untouchable mosaic of beautifully intricate stained glass that shattered any faith he'd ever had in fairytales. Not that the blonde had ever spent much time preoccupied with the prospect of _princes_ —notoriously more fond of the pretty faces and irresistible hourglass curves accentuated so unfairly by the skintight dresses he'd much rather be ripping off than reading about personally—but it was how easily it had shattered, that illusion, he'd hardly even breathed on it, and suddenly all those stories were full of shit.

Not that he himself was, by _any means_ , any variation of a saint— _nor_ did he **actually** go around tearing off women's clothing— _unless of course they asked me to,_ he lit a fresh cigarette with an evocative grin. But I certainly never made them cry. Never stared down those cliche, heartfelt, but, yes, admittedly insincere and nothing more than infatuated letters with such apathetic eyes. The kind of reaction that may as well have all but verbally conveyed the equivalency of tearing them neatly in half, even if they _were_ bullshit, the guts it took to deliver them was anything but,he dragged thoughtfully, inhaling ancient still frames of high school hallways and sixteen year old versions of themselves that seemed like nothing more than strangers passing in the night to him now.  _I guess that would have required actually receiving any though_ , Joey dismissed, having never had the pleasure, _but still, I never would've acted like **that.**_

Except this wasn't about letters, or high school, or anything so absolutely trivial, it was the world altering disappointment in discovering that the good guys always came in last, and the princes were all undeserving assholes. The disillusion that shocked and shook and steadily overtook him over the years as he watched someone so vial exceed him at every turn; this person with everything, who gave nothing, and yet continued to climb as he himself struggled just to find his footing. He who hardly had a damn thing in the whole world. Who had changed. Corrected his faults, kept his demons in check, become not only a reliable person, but a _good_ person. A good _friend._ An honest, hardworking guy who tried, and tried, and fucking _tried again_ ; but that Edison guy must've been full of shit too, a pang of disappointment rose into his chest, _cause I tried_ **s** **o** _ **fucking** hard_ , _harder than I ever tried in my **whole** life_ , _then harder still._ All Kaiba did was _show up_.  He breezed through the _whole_ thing _,_ I _**killed**_ myself. _He sauntered forward, and I fell head first. And for each and every time I got back up, he was already another five to six victories ahead_. _I didn't succeed,_ his cigarette died out with a hiss, half smoked and growing stale _, not at first, or second,_ he relit it agitatedly _, or_ **_third,_** _or_ _forth,_ _or **EVER,** or matter_ what, _or against_ **_him._**

The room suddenly felt cold again, fingers struggling and fumbling uncharacteristically against the wheel of the lighter, nervous and tensing, those unmistakable eyes flashing through his mind, imaginary eyes that reminded him Kaiba never went down with a fight. Had this been a traditional fight, a fist fight, he may have stood a chance, but this game was purely psychological, and suddenly he wasn't so sure anymore. Even with his secret weapon, unknown to the brunette, already equipped, and the element of surprise on his side for once, there were no guarantees. Joey may have felt strongly about this, about tonight, about the faith he'd put into his strategy and into himself, but he wasn't invincible. Neither of them were. And who's to say Kaiba hadn't been holding back? That he didn't have secrets of his own? That they weren't superior and even stronger by contrast? That he hadn't already seen through this whole charade, that he wasn't simply waiting to break the blonde once and for all. If he could really sustain that sort of blow.

_Whatever, like it even matters,_ Joey shook his head, irritated, but being honest with himself, _he could kill me with both hands tied behind his **back** if he wanted to. No amount of thinking is ever going to change that. So why bother? Why torture myself? There's no point. Why should I keep dragging myself down with the past when I have't even put forth an effort to move forward yet, when I haven't even **tried?** When the whole  **point** was to move forward? Stressing myself out when he probably hasn't even lost even a **wink** of sleep? _ _And he's sure as **shit** not sitting around on his ass psychoanalyzing the situation, that's for damn sure,_  Joey massaged his temples, contemptuous laughter escaping into the segueing of a self-loathing of sigh,  _and why would he?  What does he **possibly** have to lose?  _

_That'd require having the courtesy to actually consider me a threat first, to assume I'd pose any real challenge, I mean what could possibly be venturesome about achieving another easy win in a longstanding series of unbroken victories when this is all a joke to him anyways, just a waste of his precious time. While, m_ _eanwhile, here I am, systematically exhausting all mine, breaking myself down when he_ _probably knew this would happen all along, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he even **planned**  on it, banking on me bitching out because I always let him get the best of me..._

_And isn't it so like me to play right into his slight of hand? This was supposed to be about proving a **point** , about changing, how the **fuck**  can I expect myself to change  **anything** if I'm constantly looking backwards? FOCUS, _ he slapped the sides of his face with both hands,  _I need to **focus** , fuck the past, I need to keep facing forward, I need to prioritize, pay attention, because I **can't** afford to fuck up, I have **a lot**  more to lose, and I can't start now. _ _ I wont be any use if I’m the one who breaks **myself** down before I even **get** there. Like  **hell** I'm doing Kaiba any favors by dropping out, not when  **I** pushed for this. Made a damn  **fool** out of myself for this. _

 

Joey sighed, inhaling deeply, twiddling another cigarette between his fingers, occasionally placing and removing it from his mouth, the indecision of certain degrees of optimism still more dangerous than keeping a clear, objective head on his shoulders. _There’s no guarantee it’ll go badly either…or else, what would be the point of going at all? It’s not like I’m expecting fireworks, I’m not_ ** _delusional_** _, and certainly not stupid enough to believe Kaiba wont put up a fight when I’m not even positive I’ll be able to completely keep my cool, but it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?_

Finally lighting the _Marlboro_ , the filter all soggy, but a minor inconvenience in comparison, _besides, it’s not just me…_ Joey hesitated… _I mean…he agreed…didn’t he?_

_It can’t be entirely one sided when he said yes…_

And even if tonight really did blow up in his face, if the worst comes to pass, if Kaiba really did deliver the final blow, would it honestly be so devastating that he couldn’t recover? Seriously. How many times had he bounced back already? Over how many years? _How could this time possibly hurt any worse than every other time, what is_ ** _honestly_** _left that we haven’t spit back in one another’s faces a thousand times before? How would it be any different than usual? It’s not like this little game of ours is new…it doesn’t even serve a real purpose…no objective…no end…and neither of us enjoy it, but both of us play._

_It’s always been like that…the two of us…we’ve always been this way._

And just like that, the logic collapsed back in on itself. Just a million more vague generalizations he realized had never been addressed, because this little system, this fucked up symbiosis hadn’t come with instructions, and they certainly hadn’t sat down over a friendly game of Duel Monsters in their past life in order to gain a higher insight into the nature or depth of their interactions. _Pft. Yeah,_ ** _right_** _,_ Joey laughed at the very idea, and seethed with anger at the same time, _like hell. There was no_ ** _us_** _, there_ ** _is_** _no us…_ he trailed away once again, nervous, deflecting, sparking a cigarette and reflecting on the statements that seemed content, or perhaps convinced, on contradicting. _Whatever we are,_ he corrected, _what_ **_this_** _way or like_ ** _that_** _elaborated into…_ ** _us_** _two…_ he wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that still, of any of it really, but he’d made his choice. He could fight, but then again that only meant fighting himself.  _So fuck it. Fuck it all._

There was nothing left to overthink, he was going, and that was final. Any potential fears simply stemmed from his own insecurities, the awful gut-wrenching, open-ended list of possibilities that accompanied not knowing. This was unfamiliar territory to say the least, but in the end, it wasn’t that complicated, and there were only two possible outcomes. Either it would be awkward, or over before it even began. But impossible to predict the extent of either, inducing another shiver, like the chilling sensation of fingernails against his spine in place of a chalkboard, eerie, ominous, and never quite understanding why the combination produced such an indefinitely offsetting response, whether physically or mentally, or what about such a seemingly simple stimulus could trigger such a universal scale of shared detestation. 

Was it the sound, the feeling? Was it predominantly physical discomfort or one that radiated psychologically? A sort of substitutionary commiseration? Or simply the foreboding seconds that hang between the anticipation and the act itself? Joey curled onto his side, trying to pretend he was still talking about nails and chalkboards, trying to understand what about their collision created something so unpleasant, and yet left this joint temptation to reach out and experience it for yourself, the irrational impulse to make physical contact with something you know to be insufferable.

Only it wasn’t the amalgamating of inanimate objects that had his head spinning, coalescing,  and trying so very hard to designate between the confusion of grammatical inaccuracies that seemed almost paradoxical in their ability to attract and compel the curiosities of what would come from the clashing of quite a different oppositional pair—ironically, by no means traditional, but one that had provoked a similar annoyance from acquaintances and onlookers alike. To coalesce was implicative of persons unifying, at times quite literally, but primarily based upon an affinity for the other; an attraction, a compatibility, some more deeply rooted connection that compels the question of deeper understanding, however commonly circulates around a singular purpose; whereas to amalgamate, although almost identical, involved creating an integrated whole comprised an exceptional closeness that, at the same time, doesn’t compromise the individualities of its components. A sort of emphasis put on the importance of identity that to coalesce sacrifices to the singularity of common interest.

An isolation between what he’d proposed and where his intentions actually rested. And the sound he spoke of was the fear that none of the words would come out right, that neither the brunette would provide the acceptance he so longed for, or that he himself would spew the sort of things that lacked reciprocation. The fear of the feeling that may forever remain a one sidedneed for companionship, a friend. That, in the end, any progress may prove superficial, simply the sympatheticempathizing with the internal anguish of the provincially coincidental circumstances; the formation of the coalesce that purely serves a purpose for mutual survival, but questionable depth. All of the above boiling down to the fearful anticipation of not knowing how two very opposite dispositions will react once the collision has already taken place, whether they will attract or repel like opposing magnets, whether or not the oppositional extremes could coexist as a balance of individual strengths or ultimately isolate all notions or plausibility to progress as equals. The ability to attain common ground.

The sort of process that required the willingness to subject oneself to the sort of receptiveness he knew Kaiba well enough to know, not only did he abhor, but avoided like the plague; while Joey, on the other hand, was stuck in the collection of parallels, the similarities he was seeking between Kaiba and himself. Far more open to attempting to unearth them, as difficult as it was for him to swallow. And in retrospect why he so suddenly feared the wintriness of the colder, closed minded individual, too guarded to accept anything other than cruel and immediate rejection. His prowess for pushing the buttons most have the decency to leave be…the sort that don’t quite reset, immediately, or if ever. Joey sighed, another visualization of the brunette lashing out, the potential disdain, and the inedibility of embarrassment and defeat he’d undergo because of it.

That was the worst-case scenario, but at the same time, Joey knew, regardless of the fact he was severely overthinking the issue on all fronts, it was also the most plausible; if he was not mistaken, Kaiba had truly only promised that he would have his ass handed to him—an unpromising situation that he would never be able to prevent or prepare for should it come down to that. Still, even amidst the probable outcomes he had rehearsed, Joey found himself instinctually unprepared. The truth of it was that he hadn’t the faintest notion of what to expect, but this time Kaiba was to blame for that.

At the start, in the beginning of this endeavor, Joey had never felt more clear headed, but it seemed to him like the CEO’S own head had been filled even fuller with full-proof plots and plans to reveal at his disposal. Usually, their interactions stopped after a lost challenge, a few cheap shots, and some uncreative insults they’d coined after _Duelist Kingdom._ Typically, Joey picked the fight and Kaiba played along—he was not ignorant to how empty the true threat of their ‘rivalry’ was. It was more of a game than an actual competition, but then once the right hooks started coming out of left field, and the punch lines grew to be more personal than they were impartial, the game switched from levels of difficulty with the two of them squabbling to get a word in edgewise. And whenever their heated competitive affairs simmered down into the dullness of ordinary life, they both seemed to gravitate towards each other instead of orbiting on their own respective planes. There was never a conversation, just always the unspoken urge to reach out and ruffle a few feathers. Whenever they were surrounded in a crowd—their words were usually brief and tame enough to almost appear playful to someone who didn’t know them. Things like a sarcastic flip of the wrist and some sideways comment about how Joey was oblivious and never aware enough to grasp a situation—or how Kaiba’s trench coats must be as stiff as he is to withstand so much gravity—and were there any other laws, natural or physical, that his money _couldn’t_ defy? And then their words would end with the brunette calling out to Joey like he were a canine, and the blonde retorting with a smirk and a ‘see ya later money bags,’ as if to irritate the other by reducing him to an inanimate object. Which, as it turned out, was still one step beneath, ‘mutt.’

Joey sighed, and then inhaled deeply, wondering if the two of them could have been friends once; during some unknown window of time they'd missed. Locks of shaggy blonde hair bounced off his forehead as his head shook condescendingly and dismissively at the idea he blamed these pills for allowing to formulate. _Who cares if we_ ** _could_** _have been friends_ , Joey thought crossly, mixing the rest of the memories into the thought, _because I’d never_ ** _want_** _to be friends with him._ Contradictory to his plans, the youth couldn’t help but harbor resentment when he remembered the truth of their most compelling connection—the harsh, raw, reality that they unleashed upon each other whenever they slipped a duel disk onto their arms.

Maybe once their tactics had been empty, but they developed a certain energy over the years, and with that energy came a bond of familiarity which granted a certain ebb and flow of the duel. They easily learned which fuses were short and what buttons to push and when to push them; however, they had grown relentless in their slander and their shared stamina to endure the other’s insults often left them into a standstill.

Perhaps that was the phenomenon Joey was witnessing right now; perhaps this was them in an epic standstill, caught between two extremes of interaction that were no longer divided between school and tournaments. Yet, without that clear bisector, those extremes became counterproductively entangled when they could no longer discern which behavior the situations demanded.You see, it was difficult to be nice to Kaiba when a part of Joey hated him; but it was even harder to scream at him when the distance between them was a pocket of air; without an arena, the words seemed emptier and devoid of an echo. He wasn’t sure what kind of sense that even made, but that seemed to be the running theme lately. Every time he asked another question, he fell short of an answer, and everything remained in free fall, with no gravity to pull down what was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *note; okay; so as you may've noticed, I typically address Kaiba by his surname, with miscellaneous exceptions of using his first name where it fits (knowing me, most likely if it benefits an alliteration sequence) or I'm in need of some sort of variety. HOWEVER; in this chapter specifically, and I know later on, I will reference him SPECIFICALLY by BOTH his first and his surname, sometimes in the same sentence--I'm pointing this out because in the past some people became confused, telling me it made it sound like he was, or there were, two different people.--HOWEVER, when specifically implemented that is EXACTLY what I'm trying to do actually. Like the two sides of the coin that comprises his character/characteristics, sort of like a split personality if you will; the use of 'Seto' intended to represent his humanity, the part of himself he doesn't show, even to himself, where as 'Kaiba' (in these instances) is his outward projection, his defense, what he's become. Sort of submissive vs. dominant personality. NOW this does NOT mean EVERY time I alternate between them that they're indicative of this 'symbolic' b/s, but I think you should be able to pick up on when said allegorical nonsense applies. 
> 
> Essentially, if it sounds like two different people lol SYMBOLIC PLACEMENT, I.E saying something like "Seto pulled forward, but Kaiba pulled back," obviously not a very creative example, but (good, sorry hopefully this explanation doesn't sound rude either btw, some people might not have any trouble with this, but as I said, I've been asked for clarification in the past as well as offered constructive criticism for this being unclear or confusing, I just am the one writing, so sometimes I don't pick up on that) ANYWHO; back to the example.
> 
> "Seto pulled forward, but Kaiba pulled back," would basically represent something along the lines of his emotions versus his logic, fighting that internal desire to evolve organically against the mechanical components that grew over time and act solely for the sake of survival. So yeah, emotion vs logic, past vs present, an internal case of nature versus nurture if you will. Duality of perspective, blah blah blah, the product of a bipolar writer projecting extremes and a battle between static and dynamic already magnified by most writers.
> 
> sorry. rambling. haven't slept in a few days. and totally clusterfucked some confusing edited in shxt somewhere in the middle of the end that I'll revisit and edit out later, but I think I'll rip my hair out if I have to try and reread it one more time bahah. WOO for taking so much pride in my work....


	10. Lacking A Coherent Structure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Another wordy one; but this is a primarily setting-Kaiba's-stage chapter. aKa pretty much integral to the plot, as well as explanatory of the way he acts/will act int he upcoming chapters. In better news, the chapter right after is all interaction/dialouge. And most stuff after is as well as far as I remember. 
> 
> so enjoy ^_^

* * *

_⟪₡ℏⱯ℘Ⱦ℮℞.⒑⟫⦂ ** _ **Lacking A Coherent Structure.**_**_

_|⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜|⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜_ **|⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜|** _⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜_ \ _⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜_ \

 "You ready?" Sam smiled at Joey as he paced restlessly, fidgeting discontentedly with his clothing.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he sighed unconvinced, glancing backward at himself in the mirror. A deep green button down hung undecidedly over a plain white shirt, which was riding slightly above his waistline where he'd fastened a brown leather belt through the dark set denim. In truth, it felt fancy, like the clothes didn't fit the simple, slender body beneath them; and the unfamiliar weight caused him to constantly check himself over for flaws. 

Far too difficult to take anything lightly, down to the tinniest detail, it was all imperative; impressions were everything, and he knew that to win over Kaiba, he had to make his stand out. So, with that in mind, he phoned Sam an hour before the brunette arranged their rendezvous in order to help him look the part. A request to which she'd laughed affectionately and asked, "What's the matter? Afraid he wont ask you on a second date?" Joey scoffed in return, turning an angry, flustered shade and choked on some sort of excuse, but she'd simply shrugged it off with a sarcastic, " _Suuure."_

That shouldn't have bothered him, but since he'd allowed it, the notion clung to his conscience like the worst kind of catalyst. Without even a wink of thought, the night transposed with all the proper etiquette and expected anxieties of a date. _Not that this is a date,_ Joey stressed breathlessly to himself,  _but **god,** could I **be** anymore nervous?_ For all Joey could tell, this may as well have been a real date. Because to him, Kaiba was as complex and elusive as any women he'd ever met. There was no graspable science behind his emotions, what he meant wasn't always what he said, and trying to navigate through the  _right_ things to say was like playing a game of minesweeper. One second you think you've got a pattern down, but one blindsiding explosion in the next disrupts the sequence and resets the score. 

This was going to call for Joey to bring out everything he had, to pull out all the right stops, because the metaphor was just too perfect. Even though Joey not actually courting Kaiba went without saying—the brunette was, in every way, just like that girl who was totally out of his league. He only got one shot. If he wasn't on top of his game, interest would be easily lost, and his efforts would become just another failed attempt. In this situation, Joey was the _'reacher'_ and Kaiba was the  _'settler';_ a formidable yet functional philosophy he'd stolen from endless  _How I Met Your Mother_ marathons with Sam. And although he hated submisively agreeing to assume the substandard half of the equation—there was an unspoken quality of leadership in Kaiba that Joey couldn't help but want to follow. Which is why he had to extend his confidences beyond his own comfort zones if he ever hoped to keep up with the condition he admired. However the brunette had to decide his own willingness whether or not to settle; unfortunately for this scenario, Kaiba only ever did so for the best, and it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a change of clothes to convince him that  _that_ was Joey. 

The overwhelming onset of performance anxiety ultimately leading the blonde to equip himself with several sort of artificial enhancers to ensure optimal results. Laughing to himself about the immature play on words, he patted down on his pants pocket for comfort and smiled away fears of inadequacy. Armored in Alprazolam, there was no cataclysm that could hope to disrupt the comfort encasing his exposure. The subtle breeze swept the wind through his hair, and his heart beat even-pace and confidently beneath the weightless links, forged from calmness into chainmail. Absorbing all the properties of carefree security. The sensation of waves rising and breaking continuing to amplify the electric current that kept Joey's feet falling in front of each other in constant motion.  _Maybe it'll be me asking for that second date,_ he entertained with a smug expression. 

⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜

Deaf to the churning restlessness of the endless ebb and flow of the tide, Kaiba did everything to isolate himself from these waves of uncertainty crashing over him. It were as if Joey's attitude had somehow offset him from afar; and the closer time got to his arrival, the more the water seemed to toss about, rocking the sensitive balance his stomach was struggling to maintain. Just because he said he needed this didn't mean he wanted it— _any of it_. He didn't want the exposure, the risk, or the consequence. All of the above could easily undo him; and if the clock struck midnight, this masquerade might reveal that underneath the mask, he was human. 

 _What if that's his real goal,_ Kaiba flashed a web of connecting scenarios, a sticky threading that wove a nexus comprised of callosity and indecipherable intricacy,  _just to expose me—to get back at me for everything I've done._ It wasn't impossible. Even in his most arrogant of moods, he could not deny his evident awareness of slighting Joey anymore than he could ignore what he'd done to his brother. The evidence was too compelling and the disappointment was always there. The connection, the length of the continuum spanning, ample space in-between, but inseparable nonetheless. _Joey isn't Mokuba though,_ Kaiba contrasted harshly,  _he's not mine to care about, and I have no reason to trust him._

And the continuum began to fluctuate in the wake of the subconscious. The space becoming less definable, disproportional to the dedication and detailed precision he had put into the various diagrams he'd constructed to delegate such things into their proper places. Everything neatly placed on its own separate wavelength, its very own thread. None of them touching, none of them able to reallocate outside his authority permitting them to do so. But somewhere he started to detect an override. An irregularity. Options to that which should have remained strictly definitive, but something in the recesses of his brain was subjecting the outdated to debate. 

Something wasn't right, and alarm started to alleviate the burden of optimism and openness Seto had succumbed to as soon as he realized how foolishly he had underestimated his opponent.  _Joey isn't a genius, but he's by no means stupid._ Kaiba joined his hands in a gesture of thought, contemplating the other's strengths.  _He'll never match my intelligence, but he has more street smarts than I ever will,_ the brunette admitted with slight admiration, and even more anguish.  _This is probably what he wanted all along. He needs me to let my guard down, and he knows me well enough to figure out how._ As the logical simplicity became no longer hindered by the complex possibility—the false skin grew taught around Seto's bones and hardened into a rough callous. Years of extensive use had taken all the feeling out of exerted pressure, and they were already so accustomed to being walked all over. 

Transforming with his defense sequence, Kaiba's mindset melted into a malevolent, pulsing magma. Furious in color, but contained in chambers underground, it was the most dangerous form of heat. Free-flowing, but impossible to contain, no one was exempt from its alluring beauty, but few and far between would ever succeed in getting close enough. No one could withstand the heat. No one possessed the resistance to deflect the disorienting temperature of this particular temperament, and Kaiba fed off the unattainable obsession that infected those who tried. He liked it especially because it proved he was invincible _—_ untouchable _—_ and because those who failed would walk away with the scars to remind them they were only hurting themselves. And Joey was always running himself into walls, so Kaiba saw no reason to deprive him of this self-destruction he seemed so set on.  _But I will not follow him headfirst into it._ His resentment bubbled up beneath the flow of dangerous currents as he began dwelling more and more on Joey's double-motives.

Justly disillusioned by his own self-fashioned logic, Kaiba's face boiled as his thoughts formulated ten times faster than he could form words... _that second-rank, second-class, subservient animal thinks he can slander **my** name? _ Remembering suddenly that just because they'd reached a compromise didn't make them equals. Still, Kaiba gritted his teeth at Joey's recent advance, an advance which he could not seem to fathom how or  _why_ the other duelist had reigned victoriously from.  _You may have won the battle, Wheeler,_ Kaiba shook his head, still not stomaching such ludicrousness as he prepared himself for the following half-hour,  _but just you **wait.**  _ 

Although, overwhelmed with his usual overconfidence, his overactive mental process couldn't help but begin to dissect the issue at large; and if, for whatever reason, he were to be disproven, in even the  _slightest_ way, then his worst fears would all come true. Like a living never-ending nightmare, sharing a cell with his worst rival; and if ever there were a hell, he could think of no deeper circle. Even though Yugi had always been his most detrimental opponent, Kaiba had at least learned to respect Yugi's genuine abilities, and so there was something diplomatic about losing to his equal. However, when it came to Joey, who insulted everything he stood for, the duelist was never even  a threat, and yet  it was a rivalry that burned deeply in his core—a loss that he himself found unforgivable. 

_Yugi wouldn't even risk me falling off that ledge back at Duelist Kingdom, even though it would take him out of the running. He even **knew** I was manipulating him to take his spot, but he has never once held it over my head, or ever brought it up either. If Joey had something like that on me though, he would  **never** let it go, he would  **never** let me forget that._

Such a realization was far from new to Kaiba though, so whether there was some truth behind what the mutt had said or not, he calculated there was no possible way to recover from something as degrading as losing to such an unrefined creature. If he did, he would become trapped in a city where Joey could easily find him, and without the resources he was so accustom to, there was little he could to do hide from the boy. Joey's victory would cut him off at the knees, making his life unmanageable. It would not only destroy his being here, but escape would become impossible to obtain altogether; and should it travel back to Japan, it would ruin his reputation too. No one would ever take him seriously again, and he would never be able to accept his own worth or credibility as the  **best**.

There were no exceptions, and he couldn't improvise this time. He needed his strategy to be absolutely foolproof, causing him to revisit something he'd been running away from for quite some time, and ironically, the very same thing that had caused the blonde's disoriented state to remind him so much of himself just a few weeks ago. Sighing, Kaiba stared down thoughtfully at the prescription he'd abandoned. Resting in his palm, the pills returned his gaze with one of allure. The bottle beckoned him closer, begging for the chance to breathe again, and bargaining its advantages by bestowing the ability to alleviate all that burdened him. 

It was as if the sweet, orange sphere had already taken hold of his heart and jumpstarted the hundred mile-per-hour acceleration of reality. After all, life was so much easier set on fast-forward, and he'd once been given the power to skip right to the end, undisrupted by the effects that collected in the middle. The temptation crept incrementally into his blood stream the more he allowed the bottle to become part of his hand.  _I could be invincible,_ he insisted, almost helplessly, to himself, remembering how vitalizing every inch of air around him became, how tangible it made  _everything._

His external surroundings became internal and vice-versa, so thoughts and emotions were no exceptions to its altering abilities, from his passions to his fears, the amphetamine-based ingredient amplified them all.  To the point they were scarcely controllable. Yes, he could still feel it now, even after twenty-four months and thirty-three days, almost exactly two years after The Orichalcos, the memory itself was still potent enough to last a lifetime.  _That's when I told myself I'd stop,_ he argued feebly, as the conviction dissolved within the chemical reactions telling him to take control. 

As his neck stiffened under the straining balance of behavior he'd been trying so hard to maintain, Kaiba shook his head, turning his lids down painfully. The seldom-showed soft space in his thoughts wanted to submit to something real, but to err was too human for a person with so many faults. And if forgiveness was, in fact, this divine sort of gift, then he decided there was no god merciful enough to grant solace to the likes of a monster. So the inhuman, marionette he kept hidden began to pull strings, hinging his joints in rehearsed motions that reminded him what he'd been conditioned for:  _performance_ ; the demand for perfection that fastened seven strings in place of a lifetime of immobility. They were the formula of restraint and remembrance that taught Kaiba not to bite the hand that feeds; the hand that had assembled this little wooden boy on strings and breathed life into his hollow lungs. As real as his desire was to see the world through eyes that weren't painted—Kaiba knew he'd never be a real boy. He'd never taste that freedom.

The bottle practically dissolved into his palm the way he was clenching it so protectively, all the receptors in his brain taking total control of the action potentials. Once fired, they never missed. And his already anal obsession with accuracy made certain of it. Where most people paused to process, he was pulled through every potential his brain produced; so forget about a refractory period, he wasn't most people anymore, he was a  _Kaiba_ now, and they didn't have  _time_ for failure. After all, time is money, and money is the product of perfection. Loss was not even  _permitted_ in their vocabulary, and so the last time Seto ever experienced it, was the second his stepfather signed the dotted line. 

Against the elements of resentment and pain that the prescription had inflicted throughout his life, Kaiba chose instead to remember the pills in their most basic form. In their simplicity—they were preeminence, perfection; they were organization and analysis. In a finite science, they were the hypothesis that had never been disproven. _I should know too,_ the brunette thought, swallowing before secondary opinions overthrew any doubts.  _After all, I was the experiment._ He let himself remember. 'The trial-and-error prototype to a coming of age production of the perfect child.' 

The notion itself filled him with a bitter irony that even the sweet aftertaste in his mouth couldn't sugarcoat. It was the contradictory childhood that remedied the experiences of growing up with the requirement of immediacy—for to have the perfect child is to prevent them from ever being one in the first place. A most challenging prospect, but nothing a little money and some medication couldn't solve. Kaiba may have been the dependent variable, but the only truly independent factor had always been his step-father; his demeanor was always unchanging, yet the boy depended on it, no matter how subjectively cruel, because it was the only way forward. 

Even now, the pill may have produced the synthetic shift, but it wasn't the hand bending Kaiba's body to its will, and it was certainly not his own either. The prominent rush that accelerated his heartbeat into an exciting, hypersensitive simulation reminded him of that truth. However, it did more than just disillusion, it drove an in-dissuadable sense of security to smother submission. Even though he sometimes entertained the idea of constant happiness, it broke effortlessly against the fatal forces of finality. Those all or nothing, eat or be eaten stakes were the only thing he'd ever known, and as far as he knew now, this place was a jungle. There was no compassion in instinct, only survival, and when it came to the fittest—Seto was the prime paradigm of natural selection. That characteristic had never been given to him, however, he'd just been born that way, and it had not gone unnoticed. Even from a young age, older people were impressed with his potential; but only one had ever broken it. 

 _"You can't control a man until you learn to break the man," the strange, shadow with the hard-lined face told him too professionally._ A lesson Kaiba shamelessly adopted; as the new heir in training, Gozaburo indented to ensure his investments. A simple protocol as to protect everything he had endowed in Seto's name. It was a simple, bullet-point plan, the science experiment from which he was truly born. As a specimen, the boy proved to be almost perfect—the parts were already assembled, and the test-runs had all provided adequate results, but he needed to be  _absolutely_ sure. Gozaburo had to be  _certain,_ without a doubt, that perfection was more than just an implication—that it became hardwired into Seto's DNA—programmed. The boy had to be a paternal prototype—practically identical to everything he didn't belong to. However, in Gozaburo's mind, the boy did belong to him, and so he made all the incisions. He consulted with his private staff of doctors, made all the proper calls, and just like that, a prescription was produced:  _Adderall 20 Mg. Instant Release._ It was the final touch necessary to regulate the results, the knot that secured the strings Gozaburo had carefully customized. 

 _I was always meant to wear them._ He felt sad on the inside.  _They're not an attachment; they're a part of me._

In a matter of no time, Gozaburo had trained the youth rigorously—running him and and out of simulation testing and conditioning the boy's reactions and results. There was no room for error in the sequence, and with Seto as the guinea pig, the medicine quickly combine the youth's raw and astounding intellect with limitless, incalculable control. Quickly potentiating, just the same as it was now, the sequence in this strain was flawless, and once injected, production was unstoppable; it's value, inconceivable. 

Gozaburo's medication corrected and prohibited any and all malfunctions; and upon its dissolution into Seto's digestive track, the cogs in the boy's head fell flawlessly in sync.  _Success is material, remember?_ He reminded himself bitterly, with Joey's voice echoing in narration.  _Just be what they want you to be,_ he repeated in an offsetting manner when life filled his heart with apprehension. In some ways, his brain was so ruthlessly trained that it was militarized.  _You are what you eat,_ he claimed frantically, while his thoughts fell focused around a format.  _Be invincible._ Yes, that's what Gozaburo had intended, he didn't want a son, let alone two, he wanted a  _weapon_. So he had taken a young, relatively bright boy of ten, and turned him into a well-oiled machine.  _Like father like son._ Seto stood to represent the dictating authority of the Kaiba dynasty, and anything besides despotism was dehumanizing. 

 _This is all a review,_ a voice inside assured him as he rose to meet the sounds falling from Joey's hesitant knocking. However, with the ghost of his late step-father reassuming control, he gave himself defenselessly to the manipulatively meticulous manifestations of the methamphetamine madness. The strategy appeared unsound, but the more unsettling it was, the more sense it made.  _"_ Madness in great ones must not unwatched go," he quoted Shakespeare's infamous insinuation with a self-satisfied smirk—knowing the true extent of its sincerity. His own step-father had once underestimated that, and paid the same price he'd cost Seto, a price that left behind the most unfeasible kind of debt: the claim to a name that was drawn up in a contract, a contract that had given the boy no choice then to fall victim to the restless shade of the hand that signed away his soul. Left with nothing but a legacy of pre-planned logistics and a lifetime of being strategically positioned amidst corporate warfare, he had been groomed for battle.  _But they didn't tell you father,_ he thought, moving mechanically,  _there's method in the madness._

 _You forgot that when you made me, didn't you_ _?_

A secret weapon without autopilot, a gun without a trigger—Gozaburo Kaiba waged mass destruction, and Seto cocked back his trigger finger and delivered the promise. Sometimes he found himself wondering if it wasn't him who put the actual gun to Gozaburo's head, if his promise was kept with two bullets instead of one. Ballistics didn't seem to favor him though, and the thought left him ill-at-ease; but he pushed it away when he popped a second pill and finally pulled open the door.

"Are you  _deaf?_ " Joey demanded breathlessly after fifteen minutes of waiting. 

"Hmm," Kaiba looked on obliviously, then feigned surprise, "Did you say something?"

⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜


	11. Casually Dressed for a Serious Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy CRAP; okay, finally a chapter consisting predominantly, more like entirely of dialouge. It's kind of short, but this scene goes on into a continuation with chapter 12. I can't say for CERTAIN, because it's been so long since I've even read back far to these chapters myself, but I'm almost positive that here on out is interactively centered, probably still my descriptive portions, but I know it's a lot more dialouge and interaction.
> 
> Think I'm gonna do some well-needed apartment cleaning for a bit, but then I'll be back w/ the continuation //chapter 12.
> 
> Enjoy :)

* * *

  _⟪Ⓒℌ◭⁋⒯ǝℝ.⓫⟫⦂ **Casually Dressed for a Serious Conversation**_

* * *

Joey stared at the brunette who, for once, seemed to be dressed in something under a hundred dollars, but found him no less humbling.

"So, are you ready?"

"No, just let me do my hair real quick," Kaiba rolled his eyes. "What did you expect me to do?"

Joey fought away a shy blush when he remembered he couldn't take this whole dating metaphor too far. "No, you just look different that's all."

"Oh, I see," the CEO stepped aside, letting Joey know he could enter. "So, you don't like the way I look, is that it?"

Joey glanced unsurely at the other. "What...no," he stumbled, unsure of what he'd been asked. "You look fine, I mean okay," his nose turned pink. "You look okay."

"Just okay?" Kaiba asked in a tone that compelled the blonde to change his answer.

"What do you want me to say?" Joey stammered, but quick to catch onto the game. "Do you want me to tell you how pretty you look, Kaiba?" he folded his arms stubbornly across his chest.

Kaiba shrugged. "Only if you mean it."

"Sorry," Joey smiled back," but my mother taught me that it's not polite to lie."

For some reason that brought a smile to the other's face. "So, I guess I shouldn't expect you to call, huh?"

Color had begun to creep across the rest of his face, but Joey retained control, turning to establish consistency amidst the confusingly playful atmosphere. "Depends if you put out or not."

The choice of words surprised the CEO as much as Joey had wanted them to, and the brunette's eyes narrowed. "Not all of us are so easy Wheeler," he recovered. 

"Oh?" Joey's eyes sparkled, "You were pretty easy last night."

For a moment, Kaiba almost seemed to grow deeper in the face, until he released a bored yawn. "Nah, I just faked it."

"Screams sounded pretty real to me."

" _Okay_ , too far."

"Yeah," Joey agreed, suddenly not believing either of them went there at all. Joking aside.

"Sorry," Kaiba offered, "Sometimes I get carried away."

"Sometimes?" Joey questioned incredulously. 

"Take it or leave it Wheeler, I'm not going to say it twice."

"Whatever," he waved dismissively. 

"So, are you gonna take me out, or are we gonna sit here staring at each other all night?" Kaiba propped his hand against his hip.

Joey extended his arm towards the door, "I thought you'd never ask."

**⊱⋄⊰**

There had been an eerie silence separating them as they walked along the lakefront. It was close to 9PM and the night sky swallowed them. Joey was lost in the curious bounce that seemed to have appeared in Kaiba's step overnight, and Kaiba was well aware of the staring. Breathing in deeply, his heart dropped then regained the proper pace. Although composed on the outside, Kaiba's insides coiled ad contorted in a frenzy of fear, curiosity, anxiety, and excitement. He could feel the waves lap and pool in steady strokes, painting the shore, just as clearly as he could feel the touch and go of the blonde's glances casting shadows in his peripherals. Where Joey's eyes should've been unnerving, they were disarming, and Kaiba couldn't seem to find a focal point to fixate on. Amidst the midnight and moonlight, Joey's eyes looked like the sea under the thick blanket of darkness.

Void of any color, the chocolate backdrop in the hazel coloring turned black and grey like waves overthrowing each other uncertainly because they could not see. Although common sense clearly cast a more effective shadow, the brunette found himself falling in love with the disjoining shade. Common sense was either black or white—and at its best, sometimes grey. Once it was a spectrum in which  he struggled to define one from the other, but that was before he flooded the whole thing with color. Now he could no longer tell where black met white, or where grey began; his senses were failing him, and yet something in Joey's eyes spoke to him. They did not say a lot, and they struggled just to be seen through the fractures of light passing between each lamppost, but they stuttered into sputters, and spoke nonetheless. Morphing in and out of the dull illumination, Joey's eyes pooled like reflective surfaces, swaying in a sea of obsidian. Although appearing empty, there was deeper meaning under all those layers, but the free flowing shadows shrouded them in a two-way mirror of shatterproof glass. Kaiba could see in, but only Joey saw out, and neither one of them could break through. 

"Do you have a lighter?" Kaiba spoke abruptly, turning away from the scarlet shorelines and emerald islands as they sank back into an oblivious expression. 

"Yeah, here," Joey slipped a hand in and out of his right pocket and watched Kaiba impatiently light a cigarette. 

At first, the lighter wouldn't seem to cooperate, failing the fight against the wind for some breathing room.  _Fiend much?_ Joey thought hypocritically, reaching reflexively for his own as he watched the CEO create a blockade against the breeze with his fingers.

" _Oh. My. God."_ the brunette exclaimed under his breath, now angling himself against the wind.

Joey flipped his cigarette behind his ear in one smooth motion before pivoting in front of the other. "Here," he covered the quarter-lit Marlboro with both hands, "Let me."

"Thanks," Kaiba muttered, lowering his head.

Catching the lime-green, baby  _Bic_ in midair, Joey used one hand to reposition his cigarette and the other to light it. 

"It  _would_ take you two seconds," Kaiba said disbelievingly. 

"Jealous?" Joey asked, dragging sideways on a thick cloud of smoke.

"I don't love smoking  _that_ much," he almost smiled again, but stuck the cylinder back between his lips before it formed.

"I still can't believe you love it period," Joey shook his head. 

"Oh?" the brunette feigned the slightest curiosity. 

"You're just too...clean," Joey decided after contemplating the right word.

Blue eyes rose and fell with the lingering tone that reminded the blonde of a parent trying to indicate an obvious error. "So, you're calling yourself dirty?" his eyes traced a straight line between their cigarettes.

Joey took another frustrated drag. "Shut up."

"It was only a question," he added harmlessly. "I just don't see what being clean has to do with anything."

"Well, never mind," the blonde flicked his cigarette, "I'm not wasting my breath to amuse you."

"Funny," Kaiba glanced upward in mock-consideration. "I don't remember asking you to entertain me, just a simple question."

Sighing, the blonde felt tension arise from the resistance, and his fingers fell to the outside of his pants pocket. Beneath the layer of denim and stitching, pressed warmly against his thigh were two distinct outlines resting against each other. One was rounded and protruding, the other slender and secretive; although the simple motions of his fingertips calmed him into a false sense of security. Just knowing they were there for now. 

"I just meant that I wouldn't have expected it, that's all."

The honest answer seemed to be enough however, because Kaiba raised no further objection, although parted with some unexpected advice. "You won't expect a lot of things about me, Wheeler," he paused, but the rest seemed determined to spill out in sentences. "That doesn't mean they're not true though. Don't act like you know me, okay?"

There was an offsetting malice in the way Kaiba's last words echoed, a sort of quickness in his speech that seemed almost sensitive.  _Exactly like a woman_ , Joey rolled his eyes to himself,  _all over the place and already stubborn as hell._ He had decided then and there that this certainly wasn't going to be even remotely easy, and the colder temperatures were nipping at him as Kaiba released a draft of icy silence. The skin around his face was practically photo shopped into place with a smooth jawline dead-locked and unpredictably stiff.

Sitting so stationary, it was hard to think he'd ever move them again, but thinking always had him clenching teeth, ever since he was small. He felt the chemicals pour cement into his fillings now though, and he knew better than to let it set. If he wasn't careful, he'd lose himself in thought and never talk again.

"So...where are we going?" Kaiba unhinged his jaw, wriggling it unfamiliarly as he waited for Joey to break the silence.

"Dinner."

"No movie?"

Joey shot him a look, lost somewhere between irritated and oblivion.

"Okay, okay," the brunette surrendered. "No movie."

**⊱⋄⊰**

If this had been a real date, the second they walked up to the grand-staircase ascending the side of the ravine, Joey would've had this in the bag. Instead, Kaiba huffed and puffed with cigarette in hand all the way up to the top—thoroughly unimpressed. Well, at least that's all Joey could see from the way the other boy's eyes darted from one detail to the next as if nothing could hold his attention. Not that it truly mattered, but Joey had hoped to... _I don't know...prove_ _something,_ he guessed. Yet, from the tea-lights to the table, little changed between them. 

The restaurant moved around them, but they seemed stationary by contrast. A strange symphony of sounds played as background music to their silence, and neither could seem to establish eye contact long enough to initiate conversation. There was both something natural and something force about it though that only increased Joey's appeal towards it. If Kaiba was playing hard to get, figuratively speaking, it was sure as hell working. The more he withdrew, the more he drew Joey in; and the harder Joey fought it, the more effortless Kaiba's attempts turned. All it seemed to take was a glance from either of them and the even shyer silence snuck up on the one they didn't think could get any deeper.

"This is weird," Joey laughed awkwardly, but lightheartedly at the unfamiliar situation as his hand moved across the table to reach his glass, "I feel like I should be putting something in attack mode or something."

Kaiba couldn't help but grin, finally able to associate with familiar references in conversation, "I know."

The appearance of common ground suited their smiles well enough, but ended just as quickly. 

"How come you're here?" Kaiba was the first to ask, stepping between casual and casualty in order to reach the obvious. Why it surprised the blonde, he couldn't say, but his response revealed much of that hesitance.

"I uhm, moved," he stumbled the obvious.

Kaiba leaned his weight forward. "Yes," he agreed calmly. "But  _why_?"

"Because I wanted to," he swallowed. 

"Liar," Kaiba called him out. 

" _Okay_ ," Joey snapped. "Why are  _you_ here?"

This time Kaiba folded his hands and leaned back. "I'm running away from all my accomplishments, remember?"

"Never mind what I said," Joey dismissed the redirect. "What do  _you_ have to say?"

"Nothing."

"You can't say  _nothing_ ," he argued stubbornly.

Kaiba simply stared.

" _Real_ mature," hazel eyes found there way into frequencies of blue.

"Says the one who bets people to hang out with him," Seto sighed, glancing around for no-smoking signs.

 _Ouch_ , Joey winced, but summoned an outward glare for the other. "Well _excuse me_ for trying."

"I'm not excusing you from anything," lips curled devilishly. "We're in this together now, remember?"

That look gave Joey a queasy feeling that wasn't remedied very fast by simple steps, and he felt his resolution weakening. "Yeah, we are. So why don't you try acting like a  _normal_ person for once."

Kaiba sensed the shift in the air the same way it swam around in his stomach and something dissolved. Some wall that kept the rush of reality out broke and brought blurs and flashes of motion back into his peripherals.

"I really don't think _you're_ the best person to try and tell me about being normal," Kaiba's eyes bulged. "You're not exactly my cup of tea either."

"I don't even like tea," Joey shook his head.

Another half smile crept creepily into Kaiba's cheek. "What?"

"I said I don't like tea."

"Yeah," he made a noise similar to laugher, "but why?"

Joey rolled his shoulders self-consciously, "I don't know."

"Well, it was a figure of speech," the other boy regained an off-standish tone. "It didn't require a response." 

"God," Joey threw up his hands, feeling more and more unsettled in his armor than he had when they began the night. "I can't even have a conversation correctly with you, you're so fucking uptight."

Kaiba's eyebrows rose sharply above his eyes, sending forth a glare that shook shivers through the blonde. "Better than blather on like you."

That shut Joey up quickly, but lured them both back into the silence that settled fixedly over any form of movement.  _I'm being too friendly,_ Kaiba scowled, feeling a very real space in his chest twist sensitively. However, he couldn't hope to offset 40 mg coursing through his veins, and so he tossed Joey's opening statement about Duel Monsters around in his head as he felt his strings lifting and falling in their proper places. If he could put some kind of subtext to all of this, he might still be able to turn Joey off to the entire deal. So he began to formulate the context of their meeting with a duel—he couldn't believe he hadn't conjured the comparison earlier. After all, it was the only real reference point they had. 

So, repositioning himself with his back stiffly erect against the red leather backing of his set, Kaiba reevaluated the space in front of him. Rather than view the sensation of pills as a high or even secret weapon, he thought of his medicine like a  _spell card_ that would compliment his abilities. With this 'card' at his disposal, he could easily set a trap if used a home field advantage—or more simply, if he tapped into the reality Joey wasn't aware of. The brunette looked across from himself, evaluating Joey's last move;  _Defense Mode_ , he noted,  _no facedown card._ Concluding that Wheeler yielded a weak draw and had nothing ulterior up his sleeve, Kaiba played a more able card, and his spitefully cruel determination threw him into attack mode. 

"What's the matter?" he inquired the blonde's silence spitefully before Joey could get a word in edgewise, "Cat got your tongue, mutt?"

Eyeing the other boy's stamina to inspect the damage, he watched the pained wince that temporarily emerged in place of a comeback.  _Trap-negated,_ he smiled victoriously as he secured the lead through Joey's obvious withdraw.  _And now to attack his life points directly..._

"What are you _doing_?"

"Making my move," Kaiba said unthinkingly.

"What? I meant why do you keep looking at me all weird."

"It's my turn," the brunette replied, eyes still focused invisibly on the cards that weren't really there.

"Turn for what?" Joey asked queerly, but Kaiba didn't answer, and the boy wished desperately to put an end to what conjured in his stomach when those eyes traced his every angle, inspecting him in a way that almost felt invasive. "Whatever it is, stop doing it, it's weird," Joey said uncomfortably, feeling the first of his own safety strategies beginning to weigh down his pocket. 

Thankfully, something seemed to shake within that big brain of the brunette's, and his face clouded with the closest thing to embarrassment Joey had ever seen him wear. "You look almost normal," he smiled in spite of himself, and despite the fact it was bound to receive a riled up reaction. 

"Excuse me?"

"It's a compliment, relax."

" _Don't_ tell me what to do," Kaiba frowned with obvious annoyance coating his voice.

"Sensitive much?" Joey's eyes widened, but grew calmer as he sunk into his armor and Kaiba slipped out of his. 

"I'm not sensitive."

"Well what  _are_ you then?"

This perturbed the executive, his face fell a shade softer, but his eyes clouded with confusion as his pupils dilated into blackholes that Joey found somehow sad in comparison to the dark and bright blue they eclipsed. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Yeah, okay," Joey backed down softly, still trying to figure out if the emotionless tone was another trap. 

For the next fifteen minutes, the scenery swallowed both boys back into the restless sea they were trying so hard to stay afloat upon. Still ignorant to the stakes they had wagered, both duelists made pivotal mistakes. As Joey swayed patiently in his seat, he disregarded the element of wind, the unpredictable shifts in course that could take effect any second. Kaiba, on the other hand, stood the most vulnerable, in the shallowest of the water. Ignoring the abandoned elements he'd allowed to sink out of sight, Kaiba's world lay in shipwrecks. Catching onto an inconceivable coverage of casualties, his vessel rocked unsteadily, weighing him fixedly until even veering motion became pivotal. Ironically towards his own self-insured superiority that prepositioned him over the worthless dog, the leash that retracted was his own. 

"What's that?" Kaiba's intonation wavered, noticing Joey's hand slip stealthily into his pants pocket, but not well enough to hide it. 

Joey jumped visibly in his seat. "They're nothing," he rushed breathlessly, shoving something back downward that gave off a distinct  _clank-clanking_ noise. 

Suddenly the plot thickened, and Kaiba's brain automatically began to recalculate through the eyes of a duel.  _Copy Cat_ , he thought with an uneven thumping that took over in his chest, realizing with sudden alarm the parallel to his dream the previous night.  _Mirror Force, one of my cards was Mirror Force_ , he recalled, understanding the implied symbolism. If Joey had a medication, than his own went down in value, and if he had to figure out a way around Joey's farce, it was just the same as trying to project his own onto the other duelist.  _I'm fighting myself,_ he thought with a sharp chill shooting through his spine as goosebumps prickled his skin, and the potency of feeling in his chest overwhelmed him. 

"They're obviously pills, Joey," Seto said, retaining an air of authority despite the conflict of thought and emotion behind his eyes. "Why can't you just tell me what they are?"

"Because," Joey crossed both arms stubbornly, as if to deflect Kaiba's prying gaze, "I don't need you going off and researching them later."

 _Oh, you're good Wheeler._ "What makes you think I'd do that?" the tone fluctuated in attempts to reflect falsity. 

"That's obvious," Joey rolled his eyes. "To somehow hold it against me."

Kaiba frowned. "Why do you always talk about me like that?"

"Like what? A complete asshole?"

"Not the word I was thinking of," Kaiba looked downwardly to his lap for a second, every one of his features falling into an unknown face.

"Okay. So how  _would_ you describe it then, Kaiba?"

"Well," he paused. "It's just...you say stuff like that to me by default," both eyebrows slanted inwardly. "How come you automatically assume the worst?"

"It's what I know," Joey said, almost sympathetically. "It's who you are."

The collision of words had been so direct that Kaiba never had the chance to deflect the attack, nor could he dissuade the extent of damage. "You don't know the first thing about me," his voice pulled away, unable to disguise the genuine pain that warped his features.

"I would..." Joey's throat formed a lump, absorbing Seto's raw emotion in a way that unsteadied his breathing, "...but you have to let me."

**⊱⋄⊰**


	12. Originate from Disruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, so, idk why I haven't actually POSTED any of these, seeing as I've had like a continuation of like the next four chapters just accumulating collecting dust in one continuous draft for like, literally MONTHS. But. I'm a bum, and I get lazy, and was probably just clearly irritated with the fact I didn't really add to or do any fancy reediting to this chapter like I did with a few others. So, that frustrating moment when your eye twitches as you notice how many times you repeat certain words, but meh, fuck it. 
> 
> haha, also, please just kindly ignore the part where something is described as supposedly supposed to 'sound ghetto,' baha, it was definitely based off of like a SPECIFIC intonation and inside joke from eighty years ago that doesn't translate well via text, or if you don't know me slash wouldn't have heard me read it aloud, like my sister--who, as I said, this was originally written for, and the fact we used to read our fics to each other--so yeah. 
> 
> Any who, this chapter is pretty short, a continuation off the last, I like it a bit less than I remember, but still love the ones that follow as much as ever. So. hold out for them. Promise they pick up hah

* * *

   ⟪Ⓒℌ◭⁋⒯ǝℝ.⑫⟫⦂  **Originate from Disruption.**

* * *

❝ _...but you have to let me..._ ❞

"Now why would I want to do a thing like that?"

The answer, although simple, took quite some time, and Joey hadn't had the chance to fully recover from the facedown card Kaiba hadn't realized he'd played. So there was a great deal of staring and an even greater deal of silence, but then finally, Joey's eyes seemed to overthrow the expansive black spheres drowning out all hues of blue. Even though his own had narrowed into practically nothingness, they still seemed to have some sort of strength against the exposure of the other's.

"Because everything isn't always about winning," Joey said without further thought, not realizing **he'd** presented the statement as fact rather than awaiting the brunette's stamp of approval by fashioning it into a question. 

Kaiba's expression didn't change, but his tone had become eerily even. "Easy to say when you're the one always losing," his voice ended abruptly, leaving his eyes to say the rest.

A pang stronger than Joey wanted to admit stabbed him with disappointment, but he was determined to hold what little ground he'd established. "And even easier to ignore when you've never lost." He cocked his head to the side, "Oh wait..."

"It was like  _one_ time," Kaiba rolled his eyes, catching and redirecting the noncompliant look Joey shot him in response. "Okay, so like  _four_ times. But that's it. So what?"

"So?" Joey asked, feeling all the more sorry for the stranger sitting across from him. "You're  _obsessed_ with it."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am  _not_."

"Oh my god." Joey stared. "Are  _too,_  you won't even lose this stupid conversation," he followed accusingly, "even though you sound ridiculous."

That caused Kaiba to bite his tongue, a reaction so subtle that it almost seemed natural, although Joey had never seen him do it before. In fact, he hadn't  _ever_ seen the brunette so susceptible, so prone to revealing these inconsistencies. 

"Fine," he turned away. "So I like to win. I'm good at it."

"And I'm really good at blackjack," the blonde raised sarcastically, "but you don't see me gambling myself broke, do you?"

"One." Kaiba began. "That was a horrid comparison." His head shook as if it were truly painful. "And two. Your whole  _life_ is a gamble."

That gave Joey pause, but he didn't rise to the bait. "Good thing that's even stupider than what I said."

"More stupid," came the out of habit correction. "And I thought it was rather fitting."

Joey rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you didn't describe life in general,  _Mr. I'm-So-Clever._ "

Suddenly Kaiba began to catch his drift however, and you could see the slightly embarrassed look that filled his eyes for the moment, despite the fact the rest of him would never give any such confirmation. Although the inside of his mind looked quite drastically different than the composure he maintained on the surface level—it was just barely. Even Kaiba could feel the cracks and the inconsistencies, but his brain was ever bustling around to erase and correct them, and it was a thought process he couldn't prevent. However, ever flowing, the thoughts were also ever changing, and they were constantly pulling the brunette in different directions. So rather than latching on and expanding, he retraced the conversation and reevaluated its roots.

"This still doesn't explain why all of a sudden you want to get to know me."

"Well...so what if I do," Joey argued, unfazed. "Why is that so bad?"

 _Because you have no idea who I am,_ Kaiba considered with a mixture of fear and sadness, but found himself overcome with relief when their waitress interrupted and saved him from having to answer. 

 _Jesus Christ,_ Joey thought loudly at everything the other boy ordered,  _does Kaiba even know **how** to eat? _ He compared the other's slim figure to his stockier build. However, four courses later, and finally the brunette appeared to be content, although his eyes seemed to say that they could have added at least two or three more things. Where he intended to put all that food, the blonde had yet to decide. 

"Just water," Joey told her, almost confused, as he handed back the menu, watching the mischief in Kaiba's quickly redirected behavior with a blank sense of disturbance. 

 _Good._ Kaiba detected the unspoken confusion almost as fast as Joey himself.  _I just have to keep this up and beat him at his own game. If he wants to go on some yuppy mission, then I'll give him a show._

"What are you so happy about?" Joey asked, feeling his wallet weigh down in his pocket.

But Kaiba simply smiled.

The blonde shook his head, "You look _creepy_ as _hell_."

"Please tell me you didn't just try to be ghetto."

"Don't hate the player," Joey stretched out his arms, "hate the game."

"You're not even owning this a little bit," Kaiba discouraged.

"But at least I'm  _trying_ ," Joey emphasized, with a big smile full of teeth.  _When it comes to expensive dates—if all else fails, buy them with a sense of humor,_ he convinced himself hopefully. Even money-bags had to have one... _somewhere_ in all that stone-cold silence. "Unlike some—"

"I got it the first time," Kaiba cut him off, as if annoyed by what he perceived as childish. 

"Does that mean you're gonna listen this time?"

"No."

"Ugh,  _please_ ," Joey whined, feeling his calmness melt into a dependency for a consistency his mind had begun to lack.

With one leg crossed, Kaiba turned in his seat. "Oh look, the foods here!"

Conversation sank into oblivion after that, and Joey couldn't tell whether it seemed like hours or seconds that they sat there. His back seemed to slump, and yet the farther down his posture slipped, the more Kaiba began to fidget. The drowsiness wasn't uncommon, but Joey hadn't ever been around anyone else when it took into effect, and rather than give into it it was like it gave up on him, like he could sense his defenses wearing off.

Feeling more anxious, he tried to sit still, but became unnerved by the restless repetition of Kaiba shaking his foot. The brunette had been quiet but thoughtful, not touching any of the food in front of him except to push it around his plate. And, in spite of that, he seemed even more concentrated than he had before. The feeling morphed in and out of uncertain conclusions and dissolved whatever energy Joey had left.

When the bill arrived, he temporarily retained his focus, but only to be distracted by the devilish half smile that crept onto Kaiba's face as he pulled both pockets out empty. "Oops, I must have forgotten."

"You're saying that on purpose," Joey criticized, calling him out instinctively.

"But I thought we were  _buds_ now?" Kaiba implored, fluttering his lashes manipulatively.  _To control the man, you must first learn to break the man._

Joey clenched his teeth and plastered a painfully sarcastic smile. "You're absolutely right, friends help each other out," he played off the other boy's tactics with every last ounce of vigor, "it sure is nice to have someone around who's there for you,  _right_ Kaiba?"

The thought hit closer to home than Gozaburo ever would have let it, and yet Seto's strings couldn't shift out of the way in time to avoid the crash-landing. So the words fell around him and tangled. Mobility began to cramp, and his circulation had been suffering from a nicotine fit. The chaos, in turn, left only a select few words, well, one in particular, behind to be processed.  _Help?_ The word was both as strange and unfamiliar as it was damaging.

Especially while Kaiba watched Joey struggle with his wallet at the counter adjacent from the row of benches he sat waiting on. As Joey pulled another handful of coins from his pocket, all that came to his mind were the five digits left on their bill.  _I probably never should have lied._ The boy drew his hand over the small clip of credit cards inside the breast of his jacket.  _I doubt he can afford it._

 _"You still remember what that feels like, don't you?"_ The sound in his subconscious was sharp and sudden—lacking all control as Mokuba's parting words played over and over again in his head, plaguing him involuntarily with a mix of memories that never belonged together.

A small, disappointed frown weighed Kaiba down guiltily after watching the blonde struggle to organize the piles incrementally. An effortless observation made it obvious to him that the currency must still be fairly unfamiliar to Joey.  _He didn't even know he was supposed to have Health Insurance,_ Kaiba remembered systematically,  _whose to say he treats the rest of life any different?"_

The idea, however, became impairing, falling victim to Kaiba's overactive thought process that began to break down the disturbing visual of how inadequately the dog must have lived. The cookie-cutter complexes fell in grid-like patterns of alternating rows and columns; and to Seto, Joey's apartment building started to look more like cages in a kennel.  _He_ _doesn't even know any better..._

A sad and somewhat suppressed visual popped up like a flashbulb that lit the shadowy shelves of Kaiba's library-like-memories. Involuntarily, he inhaled steadily while lowering his eyelids and swore he could smell the sycamore trees...it was strange how the memory of his home surfaced so fresh and vivid, even though the layers of dust had been archaically accumulating on its cover for years.

"You about ready?" Joey's voice shook him, and Kaiba watched as the pages tore down the dollhouse-like-scenery, splintering the woodwork and chipping the paint.

"I'm always ready," Kaiba said, embodying his callous. He had carelessly slid the book back on a shelf, misplacing the memory somewhere out of sync.

"You look pretty lost to me."

"We're always lost," he dwelled to himself dismally.

Joey's eyes widened with childlike curiosity. "Then where do you go?"

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere?"

"Nowhere," Kaiba confirmed.

"Ever?"

"Never."

Joey insatiably drank in the sentiment of Kaiba's subtle sincerity. Never satisfied when the soft sound stopped, he coaxed the conversation on with colorless eyes until both of them were drowning, rocking back and forth between the waves they were now walking along.

"How do you find your way back?"

Delicate memories were fading in and out of focus, and Kaiba let go; knowing all too well he'd soon forget where he'd left them. "You don't."

"But don't you want to go home?"

"You can't," Kaiba released another empty sigh, refusing to look back.

"Ever?" Joey asked dishearteningly.

And then Kaiba lost complete sight of them. "Never."

* * *

Even once he was safe inside the walls of his apartment, the exhaustion still took hold of Joey like no other. Sighing, he collapsed onto his mattress. Pulling several things out from his pocket, he tossed his Red Eyes to the side,  _some help you were_ , he rolled his eyes at the inanimate object while fumbling to undo the container between his palms. Somehow he'd lost his cool and Kaiba seemed to have gained an unspoken advantage that was causing his decrease in comfort to transform into anxiety. 

The spiral wasn't devastating, but Joey had seen what it could turn into before, and he never wished to wake up in a hospital room with Kaiba waiting on the other side somewhere ever again. So he counted on his fingers how many he had taken that day, and granted himself the leeway for this one extra.  _Only because it's an emergency._

This, this  _wager_ he'd contracted had turned on him like a tidal wave, and yet he couldn't even decide in what direction it came from. He had asked all the right questions, and kept up with Kaiba almost until the end, but his confidence had tripped over the sensitive breaks in their conversation. The brunette was uncannily uncharacteristic, and notions of progress became quickly lost within the currents that lacked all continuity.

Without consistency, Joey's hard thumped out of rhythm and beat towards the structured shores of Kaiba's subconscious, wishing desperately to wash up onto them. However, even that definite desire began to distort when he found that confidence had collided and cast shadows of doubt. For the most part, the brunette was everything Joey had expected from someone with a pedigree—he was cavalier, disinterested, and he refused to look desperate. Even when it was so obvious that there was something...something  _else_ hidden behind those smirks and smiles, the unusual words that were offered by the brunette willingly seemed too cryptic to decode. 

 _He just doesn't say things like that,_ Joey stared up towards the ceiling emptily, replacing the uncertain wriggling of his lips with a cigarette to focus on.  _And I thought he said he didn't ask questions?_ Joey yawned reflectively, feeling his eyes growing heavier under the relaxed pressure of his medicine draining the unwanted apprehension. 

It was true that Kaiba had claimed, very clearly in fact, that he didn't need to ask questions because he was the one giving all the answers—and yet he had asked so many. Even scarier yet, he answered even more. Well, perhaps it wasn't justifiable to call most of his responses  _answers_ , but conversation, whether productive or not, still seemed to have more merit than silence.  _Why did he have to say all that at the end thought?_ Joey wondered, watching smoke form in a series of circles overhead.  _And why did I play along?_

The vague and unprovoked references to home had disturbed the intentionally stagnant guilt towards leaving that Joey hadn't yet reconciled, despite therapy or his so called miracles. No, not even his armor could deflect the bullets that home gunned him down with, and the wounds were all reopening.

In this longing, forlorn sort of way, it made him wish they were back there, so that maybe then this situation could start to look more familiar.  _I guess this situation wouldn't exist then, though,_ he realized, almost sadly, but more than dejected, he felt overwhelmed with fear. The fear of impermanence. The fear of losing everything. 

 _Kaiba isn't everything, though,_ he dragged his cigarette and corrected himself simultaneously.  _He's not even everything I have._ Then his thoughts unthinkingly came to terms with the fact that,  _without Mokuba...Kaiba is hardly anything at all._ That seemed truthful too, as sad and almost pathetic as it sounded, but Joey knew only of Kaiba the things that he had decided himself. Even the brunette had said as much when Joey tried to peel back one of his layers, and perhaps it was truer than even Kaiba realized; because he had started to stop making sense.

Just that statement alone contradicted everything Joey had ever cataloged about him, and after denying it was even possible for the other dualist to err for so long, the reality of it refused to align. But then it dawned on him that Seto Kaiba was nowhere near his little brother and that notion was even stranger than the first. Not unlike his sister and himself, the one didn't go without the other. Like two working halves of a whole, it was no wonder both of them seemed so broken; they were missing their other half.  A comparison Joey would never draw lightly.

But his head was feeling awfully heavy and he had gone ahead and drawn it, as well as a second cigarette, even though he'd practically let the first burn out from neglect. It just made too much sense. Mokuba was sort of like a mood-ring, at least that's how Joey had come to look at it. Because the only time you could see any expression resembling certain emotion was in the reactions they produced in the younger Kaiba. And even then it was so hard to read him because sometimes Mokuba didn't need to  _'figure out'_ what was going through the brunette's head, he already knew.

Somewhere in mid-thought, Joey flooded into scenes of Serenity, the sister he'd left behind, and the second biggest connection he could make between Kaiba and himself, aside from chancing to meet here in the first place. It was actually kind of weird how he drew the parallel of being an older brother between them after putting together how any times he'd seen Mokuba treat his elder like Joey treated Serenity, and vice versa. They were all the other had...and that was as much as Joey concluded, and as human as he'd ever admit Kaiba could be.

Ignorance is bliss, however, and acting naturally about something is the biggest oxymoron since jumbo shrimp. There was nothing natural about pretending, and no amount of acting that could make Joey's last remarks sincere. So the self-confidence faltered against the grounds by which it had none to stand, and the rest transposed.

Technicolor waves of blue seemed to protest as they bounced off the backs of Joey's restlessly, but the colors refused each other. Contradictory to earlier, he felt like even Seto's  _eye color_ was too good to mingle with the hazel hues that scattered unevenly like constellations in his irises. Focusing in on his rival's qualities so intricately made him shudder, almost in embarrassment, but he couldn't help how unnaturally Kaiba could will the currents to fit his motives so smugly, and yet swallow even the most microscopic signs of life...

And for a second he imagined Kaiba in the middle of the ocean as if his eyes really were layers of seafloor that got deeper and darker the further you went down,  _and knowing Kaiba, I'm sure his ocean would have the **most** layers too. _ Joey smirked at the excessive perfectionist always proving he was still as rich and successful as yesterday, as if anyone ever questioned it, his mouth couldn't hold the upward arch for long though, because he noticed that the brunette's typically disconnected demeanor had caused him to place Kaiba completely alone. Even though he knew that Kaiba intentionally put the distance between himself and any human interaction. That was  _people,_ though, so it was different—but these oceanic currents had not a single fish—not even algae; and even worse, his rival's silhouette just kind of hovered, levitating over the endless body of water.

 _Why couldn't he have pulled up in a big yacht, just to insult me?_ The blonde wondered uncomfortably at the sight of deeper significance, but it became another backward way of questioning why his mind hadn't structured the visual accordingly—why it didn't match up with the file stamped  _"Asshole"_ in his brain. But there was no yacht, not even a raft; there wasn't anything. And even Joey didn't know if it was a still-frame or a movie that was materializing throughout his mind anymore. There was no wind—absolutely no sound, and the water didn't so much as ripple—nor did Kaiba's replica do anything but stare straight ahead into nothing.

Scarily accurate, Joey really felt like this _was_ a scene he had witnessed before, because his memory drew the brunette's symmetry flawlessly; but he wasn't quite sure what it meant until he realized that even in such dangerous waters, Kaiba didn't need anything. And when Joey tried to peer down into those same waters, he retracted with an almost envious sadness; there was no reflection...and he realized how real the emptiness was beneath the emotionless executive...how truly alone...

It was like he didn't even need himself. 

* * *

_Home._

Kaiba played around with the word in his mouth even after leaving the ideas behind. The look in Joey's eyes was following him, and with it, it was dragging fragments. Or perhaps it was him pulling them along, he'd lost sight of that distinction though as the thoughts began to clot where they once were fluid.

Reaching into his pocket, Kaiba's fingers brushed shamefully past his credit cards on the way to his pack, he could hear the last few cigarettes restlessly sliding as he rummaged past them for his lighter. The smoke didn't feel as good as earlier and kept blowing backward through his hair. It seemed to illuminate a trail that the brunette found himself too tempted to follow; and for a moment, the waves sounded as delicate as piano keys pressing down in overlapping strokes.

It was still too sensitive, but how could he deny it was alive? He could feel it—a song he'd never written, but somehow he was repeating back the words. They merged with Mokuba's and Seto's thoughts became a symphony of smoke and seaweed, drowning in the spotlight of hazel that was invisible to the night. With every vital sign failing but constantly resuscitating, his senses still felt sharp as ever when the smell of sycamore flooded his nostrils, confusing him internally as the roots broke and the branches rebuilt the floorboards of Joey's apartment. The images didn't fit and yet they were entangled in a tree that turned to glass.

_Home._

The word resurfaced as if commanded and upon his next step—it shattered. Shards of animosity swirled with smoke and he felt his body pivot despite his better judgement. This was intuitive, though—automatic and uninhibited. Kaiba couldn't refuse it. Something had melted softly in the pit of his stomach, and he felt his emotions go tame. Too long had he been fighting this, the cool rush had startled the enraged egotistical flames burning behind flame resistant irises, and the glossy marble-blue rings poured down like buckets.

Not tears, metaphorically speaking  _maybe_ , but he couldn't even remember what it felt like to cry, as if the action had been deleted from memory. Nevertheless, the shock extinguished Kaiba's dominant elations and consumed the flames, replacing said intensity with transpiring smoke screens that temporarily obscured his vision. Throwing off his natural order, the waves were dousing his defenses, and had posed a threat to Kaiba's ability to predetermine a strategic advance; he was already taking the stairs in two's, archaic instincts had taken Darwinian action instead, making survival the only objective.

 _ **Knock** - **Knock** - **Knock**. _ _There was no going back._

Groggily, two reddened eyes popped out from the darkness, and Joey's footsteps were softly creaking from side to side in confusion. The brunette felt the stabbing rush of his heartbeat racing against his ribcage, and the eyes that had followed him had found their way back to his face.

The words came out in a misplaced rush, "So tomorrow's my birthday."

"Your...birthday?" Joey was yawning, trying to hold the words down as he covered his mouth with one hand.

The question offset him. "Yes. October 25th. Tomorrow," he spoke choppily in fragments. "My birthday."

Joey's eyes readjusted then widened, "Your  _birthday!"_ He exclaimed as if he should have remembered. "Why didn't you tell me??"

"I'm telling you right now."

"But, why?"

"Because," the brunette chewed his bottom lip, "It's something about me."

"So it is," Joey crossed his arms snuggly, leaning into the doorway, "a pretty big something."

"No." The red tint in the blonde's eyes almost glistened. "It's just a day," Kaiba rationalized. "It's no bigger than any other."

Joey's jaw unhinged. "But it's your  _birthday!"_

"Comes every year," he shrugged awkwardly. "So?"

" _So,_ we should be celebrating," Joey rocked his body forward to refrain from falling asleep. "They did program birthdays into you, right?"

"Standing right here," Kaiba rolled his eyes. "Not a robot."

Joey narrowed his eyes skeptically. "I still have my doubts."

The comment received another eye roll. "I don't know why I bother."

"Your circuits are rerouting, duh."

" _Still_ not a robot."

"Okay,  _Mr. Still Not A Robot_ ," Joey chimed with his newfound amusement for coining nicknames. "So you know we're going out tomorrow, right?"

"Oh, second date?" Kaiba chirped, feigning excitement.

"Quit the shit," Joey turned lazily, rolling along the doorframe inside against the wall. "Come on in," his foot held the door open just far enough for Kaiba's fingers to grab onto.

"What for?" the unfamiliarity of the invitation raised caution.

"Planning," came another yawn from the other side of the darkness.

"Planning?"

"Yeah," his fingers fumbled with a switch, "You like that sort of thing, don't you?"

Joey watched the confusion of Kaiba's face forming uncertainty around the skepticism that he was being insulted. "Well...yes," he offered, still unconvinced, but stepping into the threshold. 

The apartment was just as pathetic as he remembered, and even more poorly kept than he recreated. There were no pictures present, not that he had any up at his place either, but Joey just seemed like he should harbor some kind of keepsake. All the brunette found, however, was an air mattress with disheveled sheets and a balled up comforter.  _He was asleep_ , he thought stupidly. Then shook his head to himself at an angle escaping Joey's line of vision, and let his own fall in synchronized patterns around the rest of the space. It didn't take long, and there wasn't much there, but he saw so much in that short time. From the bed to the floorboards, there were random trails of ashes, some sprinkled, some disrupted, but they were everywhere. Empty packs of  _Marlboro Menthol_ lay in crumbled piles of green and white packaging, crunched in the middle as if a fist had surrounded and suffocated them. The sight disturbed him, but made him stay—patiently listening as Joey plopped down, clearly leaving it to the brunette to make himself comfortable. 

"So how old?" Joey looked him up and down curiously, lazy eyes not fully forming. 

"We're definitely the same age."

"No we're not."

"Yes," he stared at him strangely. "We are."

"You're a year older than us," Joey corrected him, with unhindered certainty. "I remember."

"Remember what?"

"When you transferred."

The brunette almost smiled, "How do you still remember that?" It was such a random instance to recall amidst their current predicament. 

"Really?" Joey's stare was as familiar as it was somber, though. "You do make  _quite_ an impression."

This time, the redness was a shade too strong for concealing, and the idea of attention made the CEO shy, but his medication hadn't worn off completely. So, although flustered, he made a convincing redirect of both his eyes and his words. "Look who's talking."

"For real?"

"For  _real_."

"Trench-coats," Joey challenged.

Kaiba had no choice but to accept. "Dog-tags."

"Personal," Joey scowled. " _Locket_."

The brunette's face scrunched, oddly not in severe offense. "You really wanna go there, Wheeler?"

"Oh, I went there," the other boy rocked forward provokingly.

"Fine," Kaiba caught his lips in a cool grin. " _Yo-yo's._ "

"Not cool."

"Not my problem," he replied.

Joey's confidence fell clearly under a shade of crimson as he withdrew. 

"No pun intended," Kaiba grinned, "but I do believe I just  _walked the dog._ "

" _Yeah_ , so this is the impression I was talking about," Joey rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, at least I'm unforgettable," the brunette shrugged, with an almost playful face that continued to twist in and out of expressions Joey had never known existed. 

"That you are," Joey agreed with wide eyes, "that you are."

"Good," Kaiba's face scrunched spontaneously, "you do know you definitely could have just added a year onto how old you are by the way, right?"

Joey found himself laughing. " _Wow!"_

 _"Yeah_ ," the grin transferred to the other boy, "And there's that impression that  _I_ was talking about."

Joey rolled his eyes. "So, let me guess, does that make me the forgotten?"

"Not by me."

"Well, that's not comforting."

" _You're_ not comforting."

"Awe," Joey's shoulders pinched upward to his ears, "Did you want my shoulder to cry on?"

"I'd just prefer Kleenex," Kaiba didn't seem to catch the joke, eyeing the blonde strangely and seriously once again.

"Trick question!" Joey shouted overt him, "Robots can't cry!"

"You never cease to amuse yourself, do you?"

Joey reached over for an ashtray, knocking down various plastic water bottles and crumpled sheets of notebook paper from his nightstand. "No, not really," he grinned, scooting backward to prop his back upright against the wall. "You know you're allowed to sit down," his eyes gestured from a chair to a space on the edge of the bed.

Kaiba had to force his lips from curling in the slightest disgust, envisioning the ashes that were probably folded throughout the covers. "I like to stand," he imparted instead, feeling it was easier to answer with avoidance. 

"Yeah, yeah," Joey waved both hands, balancing his cigarette as he spoke, "don't be such a priss."

"Don't call me names," the brunette scowled, unhappily edging his way over.

Joey noted him sitting down stiffly, "First time on an air mattress?" 

Yet the sarcasm eluded the brunette once again, whose palms were planted uncomfortably at his sides, "Yeah," he breathed out.

"So, tell us," Joey held an invisible microphone out to Kaiba mockingly, "What's it like?"

"You are five years old," the elder boy pushed away the blonde's hand.

"Ah, so then you'll be turning six?" Joey asked. "This explains a lot."

But there was an unflinching discomfort that spread through the features across from him, and Kaiba seemed to avoid it altogether. "So, about this planning," he insisted, "it's almost half past midnight already."

"Well maybe you should have thought of that earlier," Joey shot him a no-brainer look. 

The flat, unappreciative expression confirmed that the CEO recognized the fault was his own. "So I'm not so good at this whole spontaneity thing," he admitted sardonically, "but at least I'm  _trying_ , remember?"

"Good memory," the blonde smiled at the choice of quoting. 

"Better than yours," Seto's eyes slid to the sandcastle of ashes unevenly collecting underneath his cigarette filter.

" _God-,"_ Joey's voice rose and fell before releasing the  _damn-it._ "That was my last one."

Observing the innocent frustration on the other boy's face, an identical pack reached out into the space between them, "Here, have one of mine."

" _Amazinggg,"_ the blonde's face lifted in surprise, and even more surprisingly to Kaiba's satisfaction. 

" _Ah-ah_ ," he inched it backward and Joey's fingers flinched, "On  _one_ condition," he asserted firmly. " _No_ balloons."

"Okay, got it weirdo."

"I'm serious," Seto withdrew the pack once more, leaving the other boy to pout as both of his eyes traced the backward projectile. "None at all."

Redirecting his eyes in annoyance, Joey looked up at the unfaltering solemnity staring back at him. "Wait, are you afraid of balloons?"

"It's a perfectly rational fear!" he replied in a prominent rush of oxygen and noise which dropped into the dimensions of a whisper, "they're dangerous."

"Are you afraid they'll hear you too?" Joey whispered back loudly.

Kaiba threw the pack at him this time. "Well, way to be a dick about it."

"Uhm," Joey stared back blatantly as he accepted the cigarette from the pack that slid down his chest, "way to be afraid of  _balloons_."

"Okay, you know what, you could accidentally swallow one, or it could deflate and shoot into your eyes," the brunette spoke quickly to the widening spheres of black and hazel that had gone more pink than red now. "And, and  _animals_ ," he added nervously, but with that heat of the moment assuredness. "They can be extremely hazardous to health and habitats."

"...You have clearly put a lot of thought into this," Joey drew his cigarette disbelievingly to the side, "I rest my case. No balloons."

"Oh thank god," Kaiba sighed as if Joey had been trying to push a Chuckie-Cheese party onto him for chrissake. "I hate them so much."

" _Richy-Rich_ fact number two," Joey announced. "Fears party décor."

"Not true," Kaiba reached for the pack, getting lost in the back and forth banter that seemed to swallow their conversations recently. "Streamers are very nice."

"Oh are they?"

"Yes, no assembly, and endless possibilities."

"Hell, what are you in business for?" Joey asked, "Interior Decorator seems much more fitting."

There was no correction this time, however, and Kaiba released that muffled mixture of muttering and throat clearing that represented laughter, "Oh yeah," he kept his grin from going anywhere, "I'm a regular Martha Stewart."

" _Fact Number Three_ ," Joey stated, curiously this time, " _Robots know sarcasm_."

He did, however, receive a slap on the side of the head for that, but Kaiba made sure to do it gently, something he may not have withheld a year ago. "I hate it when you call me that."

"No, I know," Joey smiled widely, ruffling his hair back into place.

Rolling his eyes painfully, Kaiba redirected them to his watch face. "Well, it's officially one in the morning—I have a conference call in three hours."

"But we didn't even plan anything yet," came the anticipated complaint. 

Kaiba stood up though, the distance between ingestion and his medicine growing lengthier as the effects disappeared into autopilot. Glancing back before twisting the brass knob on the door, the brunette's head wavered from side to side, undecidedly smiling.

"Surprise me."

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued...in about ten seconds, which is more like ten minutes, whiiiich realistically is really more like a half an hour at least of reading through the next chapter for half-assed proof reading purposes.


	13. Another Year Older...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ yay a progressively fun chapter, dialogue, and NOT 10,000 descriptive paragraphs! I will forever love this chapter, random? Yeah. Boarding crack-fic-territory? Whatevs. And Seto Kaiba like you've never seen him before? Psh, boy be perfect. Lol call him too out of character, and I'll write you an essay about why it's actually. perfect. hah so bias, but I love my weird adaptation, and I DID warn you I had a very different portrayal...and here marks the time around which I just started having way too much fun with it. So, come over to the dark side (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ✧ ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑)

* * *

⦊❮❬❰⟳Ͱ∀⍴₮⧢ **Ʀ.** ⓭❱❭❯⦉⦂ᴬ№ᵺℯ∃ⱹ.Ỿ⍷⎀Ʀ.♻ℓⅆℇ℞...

* * *

 "There's no way in hell I'm wearing this."

"Oh where's your sense of culture," Joey tried his best to keep his features from shifting any further from seriousness, but failed miserably as he watched Kaiba look down at the t-shirt held across the front of his chest. 

" _Birthday Bitch_ ," he stared back disbelievingly, leaving the question implied.

Joey shrugged, "I thought it added a little something."

"I'm almost afraid to ask if you bought me a present."

"Oh, well then be  _very_ afraid," Joey grinned, patting down on the plastic bag that hung from his forearm.

"A matching tiara perhaps?" Kaiba peered over, inspecting around the see-through sides of crinkled, tan plastic.

"I'm sensing some suppressed birthday fantasy here," the blonde pulled the bag away teasingly.

"Oh, princess? Definitely," Kaiba turned away, neatly folding the shirt into a perfect pile.

Joey stared thoughtfully at the shirt, overshadowed by sarcasm. "And yet you insist that  _I'm_ the one in need of therapy."

The other boy stiffened purposefully. "Hence the fact that you're the one _in_ it," he remarked dully, "but please, can we not go there today?" 

"Oh." It was a stupid sound. A stupid sound coming from a stupid mouth, but a sound that persisted amidst the irregularity of the atmosphere, an irregularity that had become somewhat constant, and oh-so-devastating.

"Besides," Kaiba applied his effortless skill to redirect, "I thought today was supposed to be about me..." he paused uncertainly, "my birthday, you know—that sort of stuff."

At first, the blonde seemed to bluster up, but as he took in the other's words and features, his exterior softened, "I understand."

A challenging look sailed across the room. "Do you?"

The tone itself seemed to push Joey back with two strong hands, and yet he was still standing. "When's the last time you celebrated your birthday?"

The almost shy, embarrassed smile came as a relief, however, when Kaiba's intonation dropped. "A long time."

"Hmm... _fact number..._ "

"I swear," Kaiba interjected, "I'm like _this_ close to kicking you out."

A deep sigh met the response. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"I don't know, you just always try to dominate everything."

For some reason, Kaiba laughed at this. "Dominate? _Right_."

"Are you learning how to tell jokes, or am I going deaf?" Joey stared. 

 "Oh yeah, I've been practicing," blue eyes rolled back. "Do you think before you talk? Or does it all just spill out?"

Although he'd slightly touched a nerve, and caused the blonde to sputter, "No...I just, I don't know, I think too much to organize it. Plus, what's the point of having a conversation if you plan it in advance?"

The brunette's eyebrow rose like the statement was the weirdest thing he'd ever heard, "So you know what will happen."

"That's stupid."

"No, it's smart."

"How?" Joey quarreled, "You're never gonna learn anything from reading a script."

"Why would I want to learn from anyone? That's what school is for."

"Jesus Kaiba, it's called human interaction, who says shit like that?"

"Me, apparently," Kaiba sighed disinterestedly.

"Oh, apparently? You mean you didn't already prepare your answer?"

" _Ohmygod._ " Kaiba released the most angst-filled sigh the blonde had ever heard from  _Mr. Put Together_. "Why do you take everything I say so literally? Am I not allowed to speak figuratively? Oh, that's right. No, you'll go off and cry about it."

"Yeah, get me some Kleenex," Joey spoke dryly, "I'm about to bawl my eyes out."

Any trace of adolescent normalcy disappeared behind another irritated eye roll and Kaiba didn't entertain the blonde's remark under his cloak of adulthood. 

"Relax yourself," Joey spoke up uncharacteristically, feeling the small immature outburst triggering the older brother in him, "it was just a question."

"Yeah, I picked up on that, good thing I taught myself punctuation too," his eyes widened in mock excitement.

"You sound like my sister," Joey groaned, "Can't you just be normal for like twenty whole minutes?"

"This  _is_ me being normal," Kaiba said insistently.

"No, you're defensive as fuck," Joey widened his eyes with an awkward smile. "And you complain  _way_ more than I imagined."

"Ew, why are you imagining me?"

" _Ew?_ " Joey asked, after the squeak that folded Kaiba's face into an innocent sort of revulsion. "Are you eight? Do I have cooties or something?"

The folds turned down in a very thoughtful confusion. "What are cooties?"

"That was you being an asshole, right?"

"Why would I ask a question if I wanted to be an asshole?" he asked absurdly. "Conversing is stupid."

"Were you  _ever_ normal?"

"Who's definition of normal are we going by?"

"I feel like I'm on trial," Joey groaned, "stop answering with questions."

"Then how will I ever lear _nnnn_ anything," Kaiba mocked annoyingly.

"Does your brother hate you?" Joey asked amazed, "You are impossible to compromise with."

"That's because I don't settle."

" _Dominating_ ," Joey coughed to the side.

"I'm not." The brunette gritted his teeth.

Joey repeated the gesture, " _Bullshit and lies_."

"God, and you have the nerve to say  _I'm_ disagreeable. Does  _your_ sister hate  _you_?" Kaiba stared, "You're an idiot."

Joey shrugged, "You're the one talking to a dog."

"Ah—" the brunette paused, mouth in mid-air, "...Touche."

Then stillness; the mood was playful and the atmosphere was light, but the feeling never lasted. Instead, Kaiba couldn't help but pull the details down into place and begin to over-analyze them. Losing all optimism to the acrimonious elements of thought, the brunette tried to reach the understanding of why he'd ever gone to Joey's the night before. Why he continuously rendered himself defenseless against the carefree-carpe-diem that he couldn't understand. This just wasn't rational. It didn't make sense.

There was nothing to gain—so what was he trying to keep up for?

Releasing a heavy sigh, Kaiba's eyes swept over the bag dangling from the other's arm.  _He didn't need to **get** me anything,_ he considered guiltily, unable to draw the simple connection of a kind gesture. Nothing was that simple, and no one had gotten him a present that wasn't his brother in years.  _Years_ his mind reiterated as if it were easily forgotten. _It's been **years**. _ Glancing towards Joey, who now held him thoughtfully in his gaze, the brunette felt small and almost helpless. He felt as if time began withdrawing, or that, perhaps, it had never gone forward; and he was still six years old.

 _"So then you'll be turning six?"_ The joke translated into the most unintentional slight when he allowed himself to listen to it.  _If only you knew..._ Kaiba sighed as his heart muscles clenched and shot off in acceleration, hardly able to finish the thought _...how right you really are._ In truth, it was as if he'd never grown up, never gotten the _chance_ to, but at the same time, that innocence had been compromised.

In theory, six was supposed to symbolize the most congruent, single-digit number, at least he'd read that somewhere in his endless search for answers and explanations. _Numerology_ , he recalled,  _what a joke._ Immediately, the openness turned dismissive without consent, and Kaiba wanted nothing more than to smash the number's symmetry into inconsistent smithereens. _It deserves to be as "together" as it left me,_ he thought bitterly, back in time, back to the last birthday he could remember—the one he never got the chance to celebrate.   **Six** —it felt as if he were constantly turning the same, small, unsound age—like he was continuously reliving the disfiguration...

 _Who sends balloons to a funeral?_ His frown fell visibly now, but the blonde was too buried in a cigarette to notice.  _Balloons are celebrating, not for saying goodbye...not like that,_ he sighed, sinking in and out of the five-second scene of black and gray balloons, all bound together, disappearing behind a heavy, red-brown door as it closed the space.  _It was the wake,_ he corrected the lapse in accuracy out of habit,  _not the funeral._ However, the adjustment did little to dissuade the end result, and he could still see those stupid, floating spheres—all bouncy and full of life as they continued to suck the breath from the lungs on either side of them...

And then Kaiba had to force a refrain, emitting a stifled breath and reaching two fingers to his wrist, counting as the  _Adderall_ systematically erased the same thoughts they'd created. That last part seemed lost to Kaiba though, that simple 'cause and effect' he miscalculated in between the quick pace palpitations beneath his fingertips.

Calmer with his mind back in control, but unable to muster enough courage, Kaiba fell back into  _six_ ; and as wide, clouded crystal eyes traced the motions of Joey forming perfect rings of smoke, he wished there was someway to let the blonde know how hard this was. How he didn't know why he ever mentioned it to him. How it had been well over ten years, how he forbid even Mokuba from disclosing it, or how the real reason he was afraid of balloons was because they reminded him of dying.

Saddened eyes swirled centripetally with the circle of smoke drifting weightless off the mindless motions of the boy's mouth. Sighing, his sight spun unevenly as the air pushed and pulled the shape. From a perfect circle to disjoining wisps, the disruption drew him more deeply into the slightly shaded auras that had once again looked up through tousled bangs to find him.

"You okay?" the boy shifted his weight, never disconnecting from the evident opening.

 _No_. "Mind your own business," he replied instead, knowing soon he'd crank up the features of his mask and smother the truth as always. However, the truth had already slipped between the plastic and the plasma and given cause to panic. Realizing that 'how' required a 'why'—the second part of the conclusion he'd never reached.

"We're  _buds_ now," Joey downplayed the chill with familiar phrases. "Your business  _is_ my business. Remember?"

But the words didn't seem so brilliant now that someone else was saying them. "One step at a time, Wheeler," he meant to employ critically but wound up deciding the statement to himself instead.

Joey rolled his eyes. "Yes, master." His intonation echoed dryly.

"I appreciate the title," Kaiba reached out and obnoxiously ruffled the blonde's hair before turning towards the door. "You really are man's best friend, aren't you?"

"Hey!" Joey exclaimed, leaping out of his seat, red faced and only footfalls behind. "What the hell!"

The elder boy drew a tasteful, onyx dress coat from an ashen coat rack that twisted into the shape of a tree, extending three branches flecked in gold paint for arms. "Don't be such a baby," he grinned, watching Joey collect his things angrily.

"Yeah, well, easy with the 'dog' shit, okay?"

Kaiba laughed in spite of himself, "You said  _dog shit_."

Anger transitioned apathetically into flat, empty eye contact. "Now who's immature?"

Slender appendages rose blamelessly above the brunette's head. "Hey! I'm not the one who called myself one earlier."

"So you took that  _seriously_?"

"Well you  _are_ wearing  _dog_ tags," the brunette continued, dancing through conversation without the deadweight of his ever-distracted memory reels. They were always out of place and never quite in sync; and although he could deconstruct them in his sleep, he had little to no control over them. They played and paused as they pleased, child-proofing the settings of rewind and fast-forward that Seto constantly fought to be in control of.

"Oh, these?" Joey lifted the chain sarcastically, "Thank god you knew how to ID me without my collar."

"Collar?" Kaiba whistled. "Now who's the one with the suppressed fantasy?"

"Gross."

" _Yeah_ ," the brunette cocked his head observantly. "You couldn't pull off the tail."

"Well, thanks for confirming that," the blonde dismissed, feeling a little self-conscience and hot in the face.

"What else are  _robots_ for?"

Joey's eyes rolled back so far that they seemed to disappear. "Shut up."

**⤛⍿⤜**

The sun was setting by the time they'd made any distance and the sky was sinking into shades of indigo and violet, weaving unevenly through streaks of fiery tangerine as the waves of light died out into a new frequency. Joey felt calmly upset, but confident, slinking easily from underneath the weight of their last squabble; in order to see clearly, he had to learn to disengage, he couldn't let Kaiba's stealthy tactics sneak up on him if he wanted this to work. And it  _had_ to work, he couldn't screw up Kaiba's birthday, not when he was so close.

Drifting downward, Joey's eyes fell to the plastic bag that bounced against thigh with every step and fought persistently against the wind's attempts to rip it right from his hands. Five fingers furled even more tightly around the handle that was growing damp with perspiration, and Joey continuously secured and re-secured the same unthreatened grip. 

This had become important to him, as of late, though, and he had already developed the fear of losing it. But he couldn't watch Kaiba disappear now. Not when he was on his way. Not when...when things were how they were now. After all, he'd won, hadn't he? He'd earned himself the security he so desperately lacked—the stability he'd long since tipped the scales between, and his medication was only making it easier to embrace the strange taste of tension—it had quickly become his favorite flavor. 

It looked like the ocean and felt like the sky—warm, salty, and heavier than anything he'd ever tried to hold—and yet, it dissolved weightlessly on his tongue, as fleeting as a breeze sweeping through clouds, too transparent to touch. _And now I'm treating Kaiba like **poetry** , _Joey reevaluated his own unprovoked comparison with embarrassment that he slunk right back under. _I would've been better off with the collar,_ he released a groan, met by further silence. 

The stripes of orange had segued into scarlet and then fallen beneath the pitch-black blanket of stars that swallowed the sun deep into the skyline. The brunette had hardly noticed the shift in scenery, however, because he'd become entranced with his own feet. Following each footfall in a straightforward pattern helped distract him from the unnerving splashing of the lake turning inside out against itself in every conceivable direction. 

 _Focus, focus,_ he repeated in sync with his muscles releasing and contracting beneath his weight.  _Just stay focused and you wont miss a beat._ Although he'd already missed three, and his chest was rising so rapidly it had begun to lag; palpitating in place of constant motion, suddenly it was seeming more and more like his birthday every second. 

The thumping and the beating had been organic once, back when his lungs had given out, when his pulse began to pound against his chest like a fist. That was then, though, this was now, and the sensation was self-instilled—the insincerely honest combination of chemicals and consciousness that threw him back and forth from Jekyll to Hyde. Yet, in some sick, demented way, he liked to feel the empty pauses between heartbeats—the way the acceleration made him shiver—it helped remind him that he was still alive without forcing him to feel anything that was real. 

Joey was real though... _A real pain in the ass,_ Kaiba announced in his head, bearing no malice or conviction, which allowed his brain to carry it off and twist it into every possible shape. Shapes that he'd seen morph in and out of each other uncertainly for weeks, unable to keep up as Joey jumped from Point _A._  to _B._  to _C._ with no discernible motives. 

Exhaling, his fingers fell around his cigarettes.  _Another year older—Another year wiser..._ at least that's how the saying goes; but Kaiba found the latter lacking validity. Another year older? Yes. But Wiser? It was under much and more debate lately. What the hell was he doing anyways? Where was his head at? He knew this game—so why couldn't he play? Why couldn't he detach? He had always relied on himself—had always counted on the only person who couldn't let him down; yet, here he was, standing along Joey, sharing a cigarette as if it were second nature. 

"Whatcha' thinkin' about?" Joey asked, bobbing his head along curiously. 

"That I don't feel much different than I did yesterday," he sighed. 

The blonde took the cigarette, " _Bah-hum-bug._ "

Kaiba rolled his eyes. "I was trying to be serious."

"Kaiba, if birthdays were about 'being serious' then no one would  _celebrate_ them."

"But you  _just_ said earlier..."

"...I'm not following..." Joey looked skeptically into space as he interrupted uncooperatively. 

Kaiba shrugged into his jacket, feeling scorned. "Whatever."

"Just let loose for once," Joey merely smiled, nudging the other boy lightly with his elbow. "Even  _you_ must get tired of being so serious all the time."

"I'm not serious." The older boy lied; he'd  _always_ been serious. "I just don't like unnecessary things."

"Like... _fun_...?" The blonde trailed off.

"What is it with you and thinking I can't have fun?" Kaiba shook his head.

"Uhm, I hope that was rhetorical..."

"Fuck off," the brunette flipped his hair out of his eyes, "I thought today was supposed to be about me, remember?" he argued, with the slightest traced of a pout. 

"There's the Kaiba I know," Joey said grinning, almost swinging a friendly arm around Seto before losing the gesture in the motions of a stretch. 

The other boy glanced, but made no comment. Truth be told—if anything—they were a work in progress. Progress that either stalled inevitably or shot forwards inconceivably, but neither were graspable, and the brunette feared that perhaps the intangibility was the failure of his medicine taking effect. 

As the concrete took a spiraling series of turns through the park, they reemerged in a continuous series of smoke and sighs. Neither spoke, but this had become a normalcy—a sort of conversational paralysis they fell into after they'd said too much, or when they had too much to say. So far, these episodes had ranged in severity, anywhere from a mild, thirty-minutes to an entire hour spent staring at the spaces between their breathing. Those simple and extended pauses fit them so naturally and hit them so in sync that they were perfect in all their imperfection—in their lack of progress they were progressing.

Sometime it felt as if they were speaking more through the distances than when they actually produced sound. Conversations without words...there was simply something astounding about it. Although, when Joey finally broke through the barrier, as he was so frequently first to do, presenting his surprise with a "Ta _hh_ -da _hh!_ " Kaiba threw his hands up, " _WOWW!"_

Joey turned his back to the Piano Bar, smiling. "Too soon?"

**⤛⍿⤜**

After another twenty-minutes of convincing Kaiba to come inside, Joey won the executive over with the idea of a running tab. Although the brunette didn't intend on letting Joey foot the bill on this one, he just needed the extra time to mentally prepare himself—to quell the initial discomfort triggering resistance.

He couldn't help but be apprehensive. The last time they'd been here was the same night this started; and one of the many that Kaiba had difficulty reliving, and an even harder time remembering, not for a lack of detail either, but out of a fear towards it.

Staring at the basement enclosure, he took each step carefully, as not to repeat himself. Imagery of the scars and scratches surfaced immediately in the dark, somber scene and blue eyes tried to glimpse the places he'd left his mark on Joey's arms. Even the delicate keys of a well-played solo piece couldn't overpower the forgotten corner of the establishment that emitted the blonde's terrified, tantalizing tones and frantic confusion. 

Taking a literal moment to pause and swallow, the brunette pushed his heart back into his chest before it outran and abandoned him. Turning forcibly from the haunting atmosphere, it was almost too much to face the contrast across from him; the calm, curious, and carefree boy he'd known longer than he realized. 

Bright hazel eyes were watching him, flecks of jade and garnet flickering through subtle swirls of chocolate. As the brunette felt his mouth open and close, he struggled to mirror the unfamiliar frequency, unable to find a way to translate and channel it constructively. In that instance though, his empty stomach lurched, sickened by the scent of cigarettes as he caught the faint crescent shapes along Joey's forearm. 

"Do you want a drink?" All six foot three inches pushed out of the seat so fast that the table shook.

"I thought I said I'm paying?" Joey's eyes widened confused, with some seemingly mild offense in his voice.

Usually Kaiba would have lost it, but he turned exasperation into sarcastic, pressured speech instead, "Listen, are  _you_ the Birthday Bitch?  _No—_ so why don't you sit back down and let me buy you a drink."

"Seven and Seven." The blonde's entire body melted back bewilderedly.  _Damn._ The word flash-bulbed involuntarily throughout his entire sensory, and the masculine undertones matched the one's that sparked this fascination weeks ago. No, years ago. This time it was different though, and Joey found himself retracing the back of the brunette's navy blue shirt through the crowd and over to the bar where he was now standing.

Waiting rather gracefully, if there was ever such a thing; he was moving with such purpose that it was almost hypnotic, but he never broke stride or stance—as if he just got to float through life flawlessly while the rest of the world tripped headfirst into a wall.

Sighing, Joey shook his head, fumbling to retrieve a _Xanax_ from his jacket pocket before the executive sensed something and looked over.  _Just like he always does,_ Joey felt the sphere dissolve bitterly, temporarily abandoning his earlier concern about mixing it with alcohol when he caught sight of Seto approaching in his peripheral. 

"Seven and Seven," Kaiba slid into his seat, and Joey's drink across the table. "And whiskey for me!"

"Wait!" Frantic fingertips waved at Kaiba to pull back from his drink. "Not yet," the blonde reprimanded, gathering his own glass before readying it.

A devilish eyebrow rose in a dangerous arch. "Should I have brought it in a bowl?" he asked softly, but sarcastically.

The words aren't what fazed Joey though, but he mirrored the expression nonetheless, with both eyes peering from beneath strands of blonde. "Was that a request?"

"Maybe."

Joey scowled this time. "Oh shut it m—," he was about to direct an attack, but traded it for caution, "—Kaiba. C'mon," his Seven and Seven rose once again. "Birthday shot!"

"Alright, alright," Kaiba smiled, bringing the glass to his lips and joining Joey in a countdown to three. "Ah," he released an airy satisfaction, easing into the space, and savoring the long-loved sensation of whiskey burning throughout him like a space heater.

There was a soft _clink_ and the other boy set his glass down as well, but with no similar expression of enjoyment, and the enthusiasm that wasn't present at the end of the shot caused the executive to speculate nervously. 

"Is your drink okay?" He inquired, still burdened by the impulse to start apologizing for that night. "Because if not, I'll go get you a new one."

The offer offset Joey even more than the splash of vodka that was melting his brain in the sweetest way. "No, thank you."

"So proper," the dark liquid hit the back of the brunette's throat as he continued to tease, "looks like the pooch got a pedigree."

However, Joey simply assessed the glass that was making casual back-and-forth trips, his eyes routinely noting the levels.

"Do you...not like drinking?" Kaiba asked, setting the whiskey down in hopes to refocus Joey's attention back to his face.

"No, I do," the blonde took a second sip, almost as if to validate his claim. "I'm just really careful with it is all."

"Oh, light weight?"

"Do I look very light?" Joey gestured to his average, but stockier build. 

Kaiba grinned, "You're pretty small to me."

"Speak for yourself  _Skin and Bones_."

But it only provoked a wider grin, and another drink, the alcohol was diffusing with the  _Adderall_ to form an invincible tolerance and the insatiable desire for conversation. "You know, Wheeler, you're not half bad sometimes."

Joey's eyes narrowed at the backhanded compliment. "And the other times?"

"Well, I want to ring your neck of course!" Kaiba exclaimed in mock dramatics, swallowing another mouth sized portion.

"And you're really somethin' else, y'know that?"

"Consistently inconsistent," the brunette smiled, perhaps the widest Joey'd ever seen, "That's me."

Genuinely proud of himself for getting such a positive reaction, Joey was about to confess to the other boy that he should  _always_ be inconsistent, but his phone sent a double vibration up his leg. 

"What's that?" Kaiba peered out of invasive curiosity. 

"A cell-phone."

"Oh boy!" the brunette feigned child-like excitement. "Really? Cause I've never seen one of _those_ before!"

Joey tried not to smile, "Shut up," he shook his head, shooting a text back while blindly fingering for the glass to his right.

" _Sooo?_ " the CEO coaxed on for a more thorough explanation. 

"Well, I hope you don't mind," Joey shrank down, innocently into himself, when a curvaceous pair of hips slunk in and around the crowd. "But we're actually meeting someone here."

Kaiba became defensive at the ominous description before his eyes fell hypnotically in a swaying rhythm. "Tall. Red. Two-O'Clock?"

"Yeah," Joey tipped his head, not turning towards Sam right away.

"You sure know how to pick'em Wheeler."

Joey blushed. "It's not—she's not..."

"Not what?" a small hand rested on his shoulder.

The color deepened and his voice dropped, "Nothing."

"I'm Sam," she turned familiarly away from Joey's flustered face and towards the unfamiliar one instead, "and you are..."

"Charmed," Kaiba smiled, crossing his legs and extending his hand.

 _Perfect, perfect, perfect,_ Joey grumbled. "So, now that you two have met..."

"Well, I'm not  _finished_ ," Kaiba scoffed at the inconsiderate interruption. "I'm Seto," he redirected charismatically.

Joey's eyes refocused, wounded by the wording. "Se..."

"Yes." The brunette readdressed bossily after realizing. "My name."

Not about to force repetition, Joey trailed off. "Yeah..."

"Awkward turtle?" Sam asked, making a funny motion with both hands.

"I need another drink," Joey sighed, tipping back more than half a glass.

"Damn," Kaiba commented, "So much for being careful."

Sam laughed, "Joey? Careful? Do those two words even belong in the same sentence?"

"I like her," Kaiba nodded, and the grin that grew across his face was irrepressible.

"Well, Joey," Sam propped her arms against her hips even though she was sitting, "You didn't tell me what a _gentleman_ he is!"

"Yeah, he's the best," Joey murmured sarcastically under his breath.

The brunette, however, chose to ignore Sam's compliment. "Another Seven and Seven?"

Joey's eyes shot towards Kaiba's gratefully. "Yes, please."

"Coming right up," he pushed back his seat, even though he could've easily let the waitress come by. "Anything for you?"

Sam grinned, "Sex on the Beach sounds  _wonderful_."

"I've heard good things." The CEO winked and suddenly Joey felt misplaced. 

"Holy Shit!" She turned towards Joey the second Kaiba was out of range, "Way to leave out that he is beyond  _gorgeous_."

The blonde's face twisted, half with envy, and half in thought. "It's not really something I stopped to consider."

"Well maybe you should start," she leaned back, glancing towards the tall, dark silhouette. "Because a little Japan looks like it could go a  _long_ way."

"Uhm," Joey stared, his medicine only falling around the simplest version of the concept. "Not entirely sure what you're trying to say...but I  _don't_ think I want to know."

"Oh you definitely don't," she grinned.

He shook his head, "Shut up." It was the most constant phrase he'd used that day. 

"I'm only teasing," she scooted closer. "But he really doesn't seem that bad, and you guys hardly seem like enemies."

"He's just in a good mood today," Joey stated factually, pulling the information straight out of his ass.

"Defensiiiive," Sam sang outwardly, grinning that coy-girly smile. 

"Who's defensive?" Demanded Kaiba as he held three drinks in a lopsided tri-force. 

The angle of her smile developed more inquisitively as her eyes drank in the situation almost as effortlessly as Kaiba. "Apparently both of you."

"No, no," Kaiba shook his head, "We already had this discussion earlier, Wheeler."

"Don't shoot," Joey raised his hands defenselessly. "I just wanted a drink."

"Well, here you go alchy," a glass slid within a centimeter of his hand, but the comment did some minor damage.

"Don't call me that," Joey spoke in an even tone, taking a sip, and then feeling stupid. "Ever."

The other two seemed to catch the hostile evenness within seconds of each other.

"New subject!" Sam announced.

While Kaiba overlapped her with, " _Anyyyways."_

Joey supposed that should have made him grateful, but their sense of unison threw a curveball that hit him in the gut and knocked the wind right out of him. Sighing, the drink in his hand grew heavier with each sip, and he was trying hard not to compare himself to his father. If he got drunk and upset, if he fell victim to genetics, it was over, and he couldn't risk the only two friends he had... _well friend and acquaintance,_  Joey corrected his optimistically induced lapse in accuracy. 

The division between casual and personal threw another dimension of separation between the blonde and his companions. It had been five whole seconds and Sam was already getting a version of Kaiba he'd never seen. It was as if Joey was the only one who wasn't worthy of the upgrade, and his already territorial nature was sprouting little seeds of jealousy. 

Watching them both with an immature commentary going through his head, the blonde was unaware that envy and alcohol were increasing in a positive correlation.  _Good thing I'm still **right** here, _ Joey folded his arms, trying to figure out what was so great about Kaiba anyways. It shouldn't have bothered him in the slightest, but Sam's immediate attraction felt like a conflict of loyalty, and left him feeling isolated and unwilling to speak up...

No one had ever said it in so many words, but Joey always felt like he was constantly compared with the CEO—a comparison that he seldom gained the upper hand in. Although, he supposed, it was really only himself who juxtaposed them together, but it simply stood to make everything worse. Slowly, but surely, the  _Alprazolam_ armor sunk beneath the Seven and Seven and Joey's consciousness swam through the overcast shadows he felt the brunette shrouded him in. The weightlessness became water-logged, and the comfort grew heavy and burdensome under the weight he found himself unwilling and unable to support. 

"Jesus, Wheeler shut the fuck up already."

"Seriously, Japan," Sam added in sync with the sarcastic rhythm. 

Joey stirred the little red straw in his glass, "My bad, I was just—"

"Thinking too much?" Kaiba offered with a half smile.

Joey pulled his bottom lip inward with his teeth, nodding, as they drew Sam's attention around them unintentionally. 

"Try this instead," the brunette posed considerately, "Vodka always makes me angry."

"I'm not angry," he tried to insist.

"Because I can see the  _big_ smile on your face."

Grumbling in defeat, Joey reached forward, brushing the length of Kaiba's fingers as they overlapped, unfolded, and slid back after a delayed reaction of unfamiliar contact. Swishing the dark, unusual flavor in a circular motion beneath his nose inquiringly, Joey drew in a sharp aroma. 

"It's not wine," the other boy proceeded to warn him, "it's never going to smell any sweeter."

"What is it again?" Joey broke focus, unable to retrace his short-term memory. 

Kaiba leaned back and replaced the space behind his head with both hands, "Why, my dear friend  _Jack Daniels,_ of course."

" _Jesus—_ " the blonde retracted, "—Christ does that burn."

"Feels good though, right?"

"Yeah, kind of," Joey admitted.

 _I guess I didn't fall far from the tree, Dad,_ he could hear the bottles crashing all around him,  _and it seems we've made a mutual friend on the way down._ Sighing, he surrendered the drink back to Seto, but the brunette refused it. 

"Nah, its alright. Go ahead, you finish it."  _You look like you need it way more than I do,_ he added sadly in silence.

"Thanks," both hands rose the cup to his lips, trying to count how many times he'd found himself saying it to the CEO lately. From hostile to playful to an alternate universe, they seemed to lose all consistency in such a short period. The realization threatened Kaiba's heart, but threw his brain into constant motion. 

"Anytime," his eyes flinched, withdrawing the sentiment under the pretext of forced pleasantries. 

That didn't bother Joey though, Kaiba couldn't always compute the circumstances, and he had noticed the subtle pauses and withdrawals withheld some level of communication between them. As persistently as he attempted, Joey knew that he'd never change that overnight.

"Should I leave you two alone?" Sam glanced back and forth from a texting screen. "I'm catching a serious case of third wheel."

"What's wrong with three?" Joey shrugged, indirectly in avoidance.

"It's a crowd," she replied; the lilac in her eyes swirling mischievously through the smoke from the cigarette Kaiba just lit instead of joining in.

"No," the whiskey redirected the clotting thoughts more fluidly, "It's a party."

Her eyebrows rose just like Mai's always did when he tried to circumvent, "Oh, really?"

"He's right." Seto slipped in. "My party actually."

"Oh," the confirmation threw off her expectancy, replacing a lack of words with a long, steady drink to rethink it through. 

"It's Kaiba's birthday," Joey filled in the blanks knowingly. 

"Aw," she transitioned in half a second from silent to swooning, "And you got nervous, so you invited me along?"

"What? No—" he stumbled immediately into an incomplete answer.

"Cold feet," Kaiba leaned towards her in an audible whisper.

"No feet!" Joey exclaimed without realizing how stupid it sounded.

"Well that's just silly," he grinned, endlessly amused by the sight of Joey rambling.

"This  _conversation_ is silly," the blonde argued, somewhere between flustered and unfocused.

"No,  _you're_ silly," Sam joined in. "I already told you, you can't lie for shit."

"Or maybe you're just not as perceptive as you thought."

"Doubtful," Kaiba rose to her defense. "She's got you pegged Wheeler."

"Well, thanks for nothing."

The brunette hiccuped. "Don't get mad at me," he was grinning, "it's not my fault you're a shitty liar."

"How is any of this even  _relevant_?" Joey exclaimed, covering his face behind his hands and muffling the sound of his voice.

"It's not really," Sam shrugged after a moment of considering, "You're just so easy to frazzle, I can't help it."

"Well, I hope everyone's thoroughly amused," his tone was flat and ill-fitting. 

"Okay, okay, enough," the executive interrupted, "It's a party, remember? So what do you say we get out of here?" he suggested spontaneously, or so it seemed, on the surface level.

"And do what?" Joey asked as Kaiba shrugged.

Sam grinned. "I've got an idea."

**⤛⍿⤜**

Walking in the middle, with Sam and Kaiba falling somewhere at his sides, the three of them proceeded through unfamiliar territory as they stumbled out after another round or four of drinks. Guiding the boys along in drunken misdirection, Sam occasionally slanted to her right or into Joey's shoulder to designate turning points.

After what seemed like forever, and no time at all, the next instance Joey was still enough to take in the detail, they were in the center of a deep ravine. Trying hopelessly to balance on the arms of a little wooden bridge that connected the uneven protrusion of land beneath them. 

"Why is there a bridge here?" Kaiba implored, hiccuping as he stared at the lack of depth between the boards and the ground a few inches below that.

"Oh,  _y'know_ ," Joey slurred, "Just decoration."

"It's so  **dark**!" the brunette leaned backward, pointing out the obvious left and right with such blank fascination that Joey decided drunk Kaiba was pretty worth it so far.

"So let's light up," Sam grinned, fiddling with a familiar pouch.

Eyebrows furrowing, Kaiba pulled himself back upright and sniffed the air curiously as if he were tracking. "Oh, yes?" he asked bright-eyed, already taking the object from her hands.

"No  _fucking_ way," Joey exclaimed as he watched Kaiba hit the bowl Sam packed in total disbelief. 

The brunette glanced up from behind the pipe with his eyes back in their sly, cat like slant, knowing full well it was directed towards him. Holding the smoke in expertly, one of Kaiba's hands formed a fist against his lips while the other signaled Joey to hold on.

"I can not believe I'm seeing this," Joey's voice rose and fell unevenly with the alcohol, glancing around the darkness as if to seek sound effects from some invisible audience. 

Instead, Kaiba leaned forward even further and blew a thick cloud of smoke in Joey's face, "Surprised?" he slurred ever so slightly. 

Joey seemed to gravitate outward as well, almost losing his balance as he tried to mimic the way Kaiba held himself in place, "My mind is fucking  _blown_ right now."

"What did I tell you? I'm not who you think I am."

"Dun-dun-dun- _dunnn_ ," Sam chimed in with dramatic sound effects, diffusing the seriousness they could've slipped into so easily in their inebriation. 

Joey played dumb. "Y'mean like Clark Kent?"

"Well I  _am_ pretty super."

"Super  _gay_."

"And  _you_ can be Wonder Dog," the brunette continued to hiccup, oblivious that anyone else beside himself was speaking. 

The lighter rose to the half charred circle of smashed together weed in the face of the bowl, burning out the left over greenery in a deep inhale. " _Or—not—,"_ he released in non-fluctuating fragments as he held the smoke deep in his lungs.

Sam snatched the bowl from Joey's unproductively motionless fingers, "Just get married already," she laughed.

"Joey didn't invite you to the wedding?" Kaiba asked in such convincing confusion that it took the blonde's intoxicated brain a moment to process the sarcasm. 

" _Surprise Motherfuckers!"_ Joey shouted, missing any sort of punchline by a mile, and causing all three of them to burst out laughing.

"Seriously, you two," she shook her head, passing along the next pack to Kaiba when she finished. " _You two_ ," she repeated with emphasis, trying almost as hard as they did to put the rest into words.

"Us two." Kaiba nodded sternly in mock-confirmation, trying not to laugh.

"You two," she gave in with a third repetition. 

"Us  _what?_ " Joey asked impatiently.

"You two," Sam began again, her chest rising with light-hearted frustration at the lack of formation on her lips, "Are—"

"Take a deep breath," the brunette instructed as he did the same.

"— _so_ gay for each other!" she exclaimed as the words pushed the smoke right back out of Seto's lungs in a blinding fit of coughing.

" _So happy togetherrrr_ ," Joey broke off in song, his mind latching onto words rather than their implications. "What?" he asked when Sam's face twisted in a  _what the fuck...?_ spiral of features, "Gay—happy—musical number—get it?"

"Wait," the brunette caught his breath, "Where did musical numbers come from?"

"From the jukebox over there," Sam kicked one leg out at Joey.

" _Americans_ ," Kaiba rose one hand parallel to his cheek in order to block Sam's view of his face as he shook his head humorously, gesturing his pointer finger towards her. "They think they know everything."

Her face fell evenly, but under the playful direction of the substances mingling in her bloodstream. " _Japanese people_ ," she leaned forward in an obvious echo, "They have no idea what they're talking about."

"Yeah, that's why we make all your shit for you," Kaiba laughed, taking pride in his diversity.

"We're Japanese not Chinese Kaiba."

"Same difference," the brunette muttered as his lips collided with the cigarette balancing crookedly between them.

One of Sam's hands rose to her chest proudly, "He's practically American."

"We  _are_ Americans now," Joey broke into the overlooked realization.

Kaiba caught the contemplation as effortlessly as it was released, "Well,  _technically_ , at least."

"So random," he reached obviously outward towards Kaiba's outstretched arm, retrieving the bowl in a mindless motion.

" _So_ random," the brunette agreed without needing Joey to expand to know what was going through his head.

"Do you really not see this?" Her eyes broke back and forth between the both of them, "You guys are like  _scarily_ in sync."

"Insync?" Joey asked, mishearing the words as the trifecta of substances continued to cloud his memory like a cancerous cell.

"The band?" Kaiba's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Yeah, the 90's boy band," ruby-red eyes offset the purple in her irises as she rolled them back, blurring, and then bringing them into focus as she shifted realistically along. "No, you morons. I meant you two, as in the both of you, you're in sync with each other."

Both boys stared immediately up at the other with scrunched up smiles and cheeks pulled upward to one side as they framed the inaccuracy in their faces.

"See!" She pointed, "You're doing it _right_ now."

"Me thinks you've smoked enough m'lady," Kaiba turned to her with a side smile and an unnecessarily archaic parlance.  

"Well  _me_ thinks I haven't smoked  _enough_ ," Joey responded, both hands creeping slowly for the piece resting lazily in the brunette's left hand, as if they couldn't see. 

"Well  _I_ think that this is the twenty-first century," her hands repositioned on her hips, "and we shouldn't talk like we're in  _A Midsummer Night's Dream_."

" _Great_ play," Kaiba's fist fell against his open palm in emphasis.

Joey exhaled disbelievingly. " _You_ like Shakespeare?"

" _You_ know who Shakespeare  _is?_ " the brunette mirrored the dumbstruck expression across from him.

"I'm not  _that_ stupid."

Kaiba shrugged, "I never said you were."

Sam sighed, shaking her head to herself, "I'm not even sure why I'm still here."

" _IIII_ know why," Joey chanted, his eyebrows rising and falling mischievously towards the other boy.

"You don't even know where you are right now," she grinned, expertly dodging the banter.

"Sure I do," Joey glanced around the darkness that extended all around them, "With some pretty cool kids."

" _Hah-hah_."

"What's so funny, Kaiba?"

"Just everything," he hiccuped, "that comes out of your mouth."

"You  _really_ aren't seeing this shit?" Sam exclaimed, continuously bringing the topic back into conversation. 

Joey was kicking his legs back and forth beneath the railing that had begun to make his backside sore, "We've had years of experience."

"Dedicated rivalry," Kaiba shook his head in confirmation.

" _Epic_ rivalry," Joey corrected in the Mr. Movie voice.

"So, you began finishing each other's sentences?" she asked blatantly. 

"We do not," both of their voices collided within a five second lapse of each other.

She grinned and slipped from her spot, "Me thinks you do."

"Me thinks I'm  _pretty_ drunk," Joey fell back into the vernacular as his feet hit the bridge with a thump.

"Me thinks," both arms unfolded over Kaiba's head simultaneously with a deep yawn, "it's time to go home."

As they began their ascent up the mismatched, makeshift staircase of rocks and two by fours, Sam guided them with her cell phone stretched out, constantly stumbling when she stopped to press the button that re-illuminated the screen. More than half way up the side of the ravine, Joey caught his foot beneath an exposed thicket of roots that sent him lunging forward into a domino effect. Kaiba's whole body knocked over with a cut off " _Jesus—_ " before he landed face first in dirt.

A set of slanted eyes turned backward as she held her phone up to her face, squinting to locate the bodies that were trying to untangle from their little tumble, "Are you guys okay?"

"Define okay," Kaiba asked, lifting his torso in a single movement and spitting away at the dirt.

" _Mmmm_ ," Joey released an immature whining sound from somewhere seconds below, remaining unmoved. 

"What are you doing," the brunette nudged him with his foot as if he were a dead animal.

" _Emb—racing my—fall,"_ Joey said into the ground.

"Get up," Kaiba pulled at one of his arms, "I'm getting embarrassed for you."

Joey yanked himself from the other's grip, pulling himself to a sitting position before standing and brushing away the clumps of mud and leaves. "God only knows what all these trees must be thinking!" He feigned dramatically.

"Sometimes I have no idea where you get this stuff from," Kaiba yawned.

"Me either," the blonde sighed, bracing his new bruises for the remainder of the climb.

**⤛⍿⤜**

Before long, they had delivered Sam safely back to her apartment; well, she pretty much delivered herself, but they walked along; well, tripped and stumbled.

"You sure you guys know how to get back?"

"I think we can figure it out," Kaiba turned Joey back in the right direction.

" _Bye!"_ Joey shouted up to her, miscalculating the distance through his disjoining vision.

" _Shhh_ ," the brunette tugged Joey's shirt to shut him up.

"Sorry," Joey whispered too quietly this time, causing Kaiba to roll his eyes as he dragged him along by the sleeve.

The street outstretched before them in a vast tangle of turn lanes and traffic lights that all seemed to look the same to Kaiba. Usually he was more directionally inclined, but throwing weed into the mix had softened the sharp edges of his attention span ever so slightly enough to throw off his sense of awareness, and Joey dragged his feet impatiently behind. With half his body falling forward, the blonde wouldn't stop moaning and groaning about _how much farther, how much farther?_ And the brunette had begun to wonder himself as he tried to remap the street signs in front of them, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar names of trees and presidents that designated where he was going.

"Jackson or Jefferson?" Kaiba yawned.

"Is it my turn  _again_?" the blonde exhaled in exhastion, glancing back and forth, pretending there was anything familiar about the adjacent street corners as he weighed them against each other. "Jackson," he said finally.

"Final answer?"

"Yes, Regis."

"Let's hope you're right," he replied, hiccuping in mid yawn as they continued their would-you-rather quest between each intersection they passed through. 

"Okay," blue eyes squinted and glanced through the dark to catch the reflective surfaces of green and white street signs, "Capitol or Lynwood?" he asked himself aloud, before shaking his head and going towards Capitol. 

"Wait!" Joey caught up, "Did you say Lynwood?"

"Yeah, why?" the brunette turned back, gaining more energy at the prospect of progress, " _Please_ tell me you know where we are."

"I think," Joey leaned to peer down the empty pavement, "I think we're right by my place."

"Oh thank. fucking.  _god_ ," Kaiba released the well-awaited sigh of relief. "For real though," the brunette warned, "I seriously might kill you if you don't let me spend the night."

Taken aback and flinching out of sight, Joey's face curdled at the concept of seeing Kaiba try to adjust to such an unfamiliar habitat; and more specifically, to the disheveled state he constantly left his apartment in. "I mean I guess so..."

"Good enough for me," Kaiba made the executive decision before Joey had the chance to raise protest.

"Yeah, you say that now..." Joey rubbed the back of his neck nervously as they began the final, fifteen-minute stretch; both of them so sleep deprived and so worn down from all they'd ingested that neither had taken the time to draw the obvious parallel between how far they'd come since that morning.

They had started the day out separately and now they were ending it together—when they had met up, they'd been nervous and distant, and now they were nervous and attached at the hip, their feet falling in sync from the left to the right, forwards and backwards all the way up to Joey's front door.

Leaning against the frame, eyes half open and struggling to fit the key into the lock properly, Joey reopened the doorway between the previous distances with a simple yawn. "So, did you have a good birthday?"

"Holy shit it's my birthday!" Kaiba stopped dead in his tracks, having honestly forgotten all about it. 

Joey grinned sleepily. "You would forget your own birthday  _on_ your birthday."

Strands of chocolate brown shook steadily across his forehead and his head shook disbelievingly from side to side, but unable to hide the small smile that spread across his lips, so innocently, that Joey thought he'd fallen in love for a second. Not with the brunette, but with the idea he could take Kaiba's mind off something so effortlessly.

"Is that good or bad?" he opened the door, unable to determine what the silence the other boy left meant. 

"It's..." Kaiba paused, "It's a good thing," the words formed unfamiliarly in the softened, slurring sounds of his breathing. "...I had...I had fun."

The confession jumpstarted the beat in Joey's chest and the alcohol turned him around excitedly, "Really? You mean it?"

"Yeah," a smile formed halfway before more fixed featured fell over it, but the persistent personalization in his voice remained unwavering, "You really surprised me today," he rested his eyes, taking a seat at the edge of the air mattress without hesitance this time.

Joey's eyes began to drop downward under the pressure of sleep he'd been fighting off, but his chest started creating riffs in the rhythm of the most pleasant panic attack he'd ever had. Palpitating slightly offbeat, the sharp twisting only excited his central nervous system, and pulled him magnetically towards the source of friction. Towards the warmth that radiated through the cold, drafty apartment they were both about to spend the night in, and sat down gingerly a good foot away.

"Seriously though...I want to say thanks," Kaiba spoke with both eyes closed, although his lack of sleep wasn't the reason, the inability to look at Joey as he said it, however, was. But the words slipped out so easily when he just let the rest disappear. "I wouldn't have usually done this."

"I know." Joey replied softly, averting his eyes as well, unaware that the other's had reopened. "I just wanted to see you happier."

It was one of those simple things Joey always seemed to say that froze Kaiba's jaw just as soon as it opened, and he felt something genuinely painful about how kindly Joey was treating him. Something threatening and long-awaited at the same time; something scarier than his birthday or even bereavement—and that something was how honest Joey could be without trying or even thinking, and how complex it became for him to dissect so much simplicity into anything other than exactly what it was.

"Why?"

"Cause you're not such an asshole," Joey smiled, still retaining the boyishly flushed face leftover from the drunk that still clung to his clothes, lingering in the mixture of weed and cigarette smoke, "and you're almost even kind of nice."

"Well, I have more than one setting," Kaiba confirmed with a softened spitefulness in place of his typical force.

"You should try switching to them every once in awhile."

"Cigarette?" Kaia circumvented. 

Joey sighed, "Sure."

"Don't sound so disappointed."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are," his eyes remained closed in distant focus, "I can hear it in your voice. Sam was right, you really are a terrible liar."

"And let me guess," Joey redirected the subject away from himself by reverting to their previous, more slighting interactions. "You're the  _best_ at lying."

 _Only to myself,_ Kaiba sighed.

"Sorry," Joey quickly apologized, mumbling it under his breath more so than in the brunette's direction.

"Don't be."

"Well, I am," he spoke up that time.

Kaiba leaned backward against the bed in sigh. "I don't understand you."

Joey, however, had been paying more attention to the wrung out remains of the plastic bag he'd been carrying around all night, and let the brunette keep some of his words unchallenged for once.

Staring up into the backs of his eyelids, Kaiba awaited some sort of simple, confusing clarity to spill from the blonde as it usually did in an unexpected string of ordinary words. Instead, he felt an almost weightless surface drop onto his stomach, waiting intriguingly for the executive to finally open his eyes.

His fingers found their way around the sides first, then the rest of him followed by repositioning until he was sitting next to Joey with a package no more than half an inch thick on his lap.

"I suck at wrapping," the blonde rushed nervously now that those eyes had reopened. "But I told you I got you a present...it's nothing fancy or anything."

The concept of receiving anything though was overwhelming and he felt like the Burgermeister when he gets the  _yo-yo_ in  _Santa Clause is Coming to Town_ ; at first he didn't understand what he'd been given, and when he did, it almost melted his heart how easily he'd forgotten part of himself. Staring down at the two soft cover booklets, the alcohol and the  _adderall_ were allowing the prickling in the corners of his eyes to form as he clenched the surface of the unembellished, standard-issue green and white notebooks like they were made of glass. It was so simple it was literally heartbreaking. 

"I thought maybe you could use them for when you play piano," Joey explained into his twiddling thumbs as they encircled each other waiting, "I noticed there's one at your apartment too, so I thought you must really like it."

"I love it," he said unhindered, but Joey was unable to match the wavering drops in pitch to the correct emotion in Kaiba's eyes, which were still glued to the covers of the Manuscript Paper.

He couldn't even help it though, and it may have been the alcohol and the exhaustion, but he didn't even care. The notebooks were the right brand and everything, not that Joey had any possible way of knowing that, but they matched all the others he kept bound together beneath the second to last shelf in his closet. He'd had some of them since before he could form concrete memories, and he hadn't bought one since before he'd left Japan; so there was something eerily perfect in Joey's otherwise poor timing, and he realized that he was emerging twenty-three instead of six. The thought alone scared him twice as much as it had before it had seemed impossible, but Joey must have pressed something in the right order, because time became congruent and he felt the next word collide with his ear-canals as if it were completely foreign. 

"Kaiba?" Joey leaned forward cautiously. 

The brunette, however, closed his eyes and clenched his fingers so tightly that they lost all circulation and he could no longer feel his mouth lose its hesitance. Slipping up for the first time as his split personality fought for representation. 

"That...that's not even really my name you know..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (°◡°♡).:｡


	14. Drunken Words and Sober Thoughts?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super Sentimental to Super Playful-Fuck This-I Decided To Have Way Too Much Fun Writing Scenes For These Two At The Point In Time I Originally Wrote This Chapter. 
> 
> (chapter notes aren't imperative, skip em if you want, I'm just a rambler)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did a bit of editing from the original, hopefully I took out all my little bracket self-note-question marks, but pretty sure I got'em; I added a lot more to the beginning, well a paragraph or two, still might take a line or two out though-definitely one of those OH FXCK YEAH, I'M ACTUALLY WRITING moments so I went with it and then wasn't sure what to do with it. 
> 
> Also, I took out the interrupter I used to have mid chapter, isolating the break in time/whatever/those little symbols I put, baha, basically. It's me apologizing for the awfully unsentimental scene transition, you'll know it the second you see it, and while I say this, I gueeesss it's more sorry I'm not sorry baha, cause I don't think most people will mind the second half. I'm pretty sure this is when I (obviously stuck to the plot) but was really like FUCK IT, I'm having fun with this. So more playful, but thematically corresponding partially to respective drug use.
> 
> Oh, and, this confused some people last time I posted this, so when you get to the part about a sleeping position in which someone's legs are said to form a perfect four, think of how four looks on a keyboard, that should make it make 80x more sense, butI tried to replace it with the numerical 4 to be more obvious this time. Lol, essentially I just kind of stole how I ACTUALLY sleep/position etc. wise so I didn't stop to think how obscure it sounded. 
> 
> Anyways; if anyone actually reads this, that is. Have fun :) Hope you enjoy.

* * *

~~⟪∁ℏⱯꟼȾ℥ℝ⒁⟫~~

⤷₫ᴚᶸηƙ∄ᵙ Ϣ⤮ⱹƌᵟ ⅋ ₴ⱺƀƹ℞ ʇⱶ0⊂⅁ᶣƾẟ?⤴

* * *

Joey looked up in hazy confusion, Kaiba was never one to disclose anything truly personal, and yet now, in the stillness of his apartment, the youth was silenced into the sweetest, most delicate submission. Another one of those simple situations the other boy had spoken of just seconds ago, where the words themselves lacked profoundness. And although he'd stumbled through them, whereas the blonde's delivery was always so natural, they were nonetheless plainspoken and ingenuous. They were honest, pure and frightfully authentic, unfamiliarly devoid of calculation or cunning, neither disassembling nor unctuous, nor meant to produce counterfeit connotations shrouded in preplanning and double meaning, just exactly as they appeared to be.

 _Real_.

Which is probably the reason neither of them seemed to recognize them at first, had they been bolded, italicized, and printed in well proportioned speech bubbles like the way they were treating them, in this concomitant pixillation, just sort of staring, somewhat unbalanced, waiting for proper meanings to materialize. Or subtitles to translate. An asterisk to attach and lead to a footnote. Sort of a simultaneous condition enveloping both duelists at once, thrown into this descriptive repetition because neither were capable of neutralizing the contrast without relying on narration; akin to some kind of transcendental suspension, sort of out of body and seemingly spanning for well beyond the actuality of the seconds of spacing that separated the time and space in which it was all taking place.

The brunette quickly quieted, licking his lips, eyebrows knitted. The blonde's gaze glassy and refocusing, sparkling with curiosity that went unnoticed due to the overwhelming irregularity. Simple, stumbled through words echoing through the one bedroom complex:  _"That...that's not even really my name you know."_  Ellipses implied and so obviously pulling at both of their minds, though in quite opposite directions; reversing their natural roles, something that, although vaguely recognized between the both of them, had never seemed so stark an incongruousness.

A mutually reciprocative paralysis, lacking the downplay of grandiloquence or crude sarcasm to belittle the value or establish the thorough rehearsal—Kaiba, beginning to lift his chin a little, perchance to speak again, but emitting no sound—nor the awkward foot-in-the-mouth integration attempts—Joey's head slightly cocked, as if contemplating, but unable to complete a solitary thought—interrupting and overcompensating with good intentions, although, for what he did not understand and therefore made him uncomfortable. That single sentence still thick and heavy and hanging all around them. Reassessing the sheer simplicity and the weight it carried, trying to deconstruct what was too straightforward to reduce any further.

A battle between benzodiazepines and stimulants, depressants and the psychoactive that escapes proper categorization: aka the clusterfuck of _adderall, xanax_ , alcohol, and weed all intermixing and supplementarily altering their chemical interactions when respectively commingled. Their one commonplace, that phrase, that frozen precipice waiting to be pushed back down to the base of powerlessness. A destabilizing lack of stage cues, likewise, intermingling with a vicariously experienced audience who respected the art. The very real stage fright, the harm any external stimuli could inflict upon the confidence of the desperately struggling person beneath the spotlight, travailing to produce the proper lines unfamiliar to memory. And he was well aware of the stage-going saying  _break-a-leg_ , (and the fact it was figurative), but he was very much unwilling and unwanting to break _anything_ ; be it legs, Kaiba, momentum, or the moment.

That 30 seconds that felt like thirty years that couldn't be sacrificed to idling any longer. So, falling backward on the pressure of his palms, the blonde watched with his breath held, unable to fathom the words his adversary was finally beginning to form—the self-exacting undertaking of what was challenging his natural capacities more than Joey was used to witnessing, Kaiba wringing his hands, flinching in his own sort of confusion, some out of body soliloquy he was not privy to—and subliminally allowed Seto's shaky yet fluid speech to continue with the soft and silent prompting of his undivided attention.

Blue eyes, unfamiliar in their emotion, glancing but hardly aware, too busy rewinding or fast forwarding or forgetting who he was talking about, or the _he_ was talking  _as_ , lips wriggling undecidedly, this persistence of affliction as he stared straight up at the ceiling as if it were something so far away and made of glass. That rendered this state of something that clearly created immense, residual suffering. A fraction of doubt there was any reaching it, let alone breaking through, before even the metaphorical ceiling, the roof of his mouth, couldn't stop the heat of the conversation from rising. Dry and ancient. Up into his vocal cords. Unfamiliar vibrations producing the unexpected sound from his throat when he opened his mouth and his entire visual field vanished. 

"Before Gozaburo adopted us. Before my," Kaiba paused, eyelids struggling not to clench, already so tightly closed they were creating pained expressions all throughout his face. "Well...when my parents were still alive," he encapsulated, features still far more torn than the denudation of diverting words—shades of hazel rounding at the euphemistic paraphrase, watching as the unsuccessful attempt to mask the discomfort continued to spread—mouth twisting a bit. 

"I was still just— _normal_ ," he seemed to say sadly for a lack of better words, "and my name, my name was never Kaiba, either..." his body shifted, uncertain of whether to move towards or away from it as he cleared his throat, "before all of that... _happened_..." he abridged, "my real name was...my real name  _is_ ," the brunette emphasized for his own benefit, stalling somewhere in the conclusion, "...my real name...is," before a slight tremor and soft catch, "... _Hashimoto_..." 

And with that he seemed to shut down, exhausted by what had been damn near impossible and nothing he'd ever intended or imagined ever uttering aloud to another person for as long as he lived, bracing himself, bones and muscles both stiffening and locking to keep himself in tact after submitting something of that magnitude to the abysmal uncertainty of the silence, the blonde having not yet offered an immediate response. Eyes still rounded, words sinking in while wrapping around the heart wrenching face of the man who'd spoken them, but in actuality he was processing, trying to give them the sort of respect they deserved.

Kaiba feeling like an idiot, a drunken, amphetamine strung out  _idiot_ , " _Say so_ —" 

So Joey hardly even noticed the brunette's interjection or the fact he cut him off, gaze pooling upward, surreal and soft-spoken, "Seto _Hashimoto_ ," he repeated stilly, each syllable felt so fragile, so delicate, and yet so extremely heavy.

So much hidden behind it and yet conversely exposed, his altered state of mind still drinking in the unconquerable difficulty to absorb such immense sadness, the way that calculative composed face collapsed in its own way, the resistance, the nature of this secret he'd just been entrusted with somehow, somewhere in their uncanny course of intoxication and intimacy. But even more overwhelming than all of that combine, was this sudden lego-like piece in his brain that clicked together with another corresponding piece that had always been there, an unthinking foundation that had gained a building block to bridge the present to something obscure and elusive from their past. The reason for that distance, the undeniable certainty that he'd found a foothold and climbed atop some deeper threshold that had made Seto  _Kaiba_ , Seto Kaiba. This personal disappointment he felt with himself for why that file in his head had been stamped " _asshole"_ , adorned in insults and never once stopped to think this boy he'd known, and although hated, was human.

That he had his own history, his own past, his own personal shit to overcome, that he struggled with, that he couldn't just _share_ and expect them to _get_ , or have been expected to just  _share_ in the first place. But more than anything, in that instance, suddenly, the strange attraction between Kaiba and Yugi made so much sense—and he couldn't understand why, for the first time in over a month, he'd thought of his best friend—but the evidence was there instantly, overshadowing that last bit and screaming Joey in the face.  _Yugi's last name is **Motto** , _he thought, it was because of Yugi's  _name_...it was a reference point...it was familiar...he could identify with it— _but only so far..._

"I think you wanted to relate to us," Joey connected the dots, "but you had no idea how."

The silence unnerved him, making him think he'd upset the other boy before hearing the brunette sigh in smoothly and exhale in rigid intervals, as if he couldn't keep his voice from catching. 

"You're right. I didn't." His eyes cast downward, clearly focusing in and out of his usual cycling of conflicting emotion. "I  _still_ don't."

"Still don't," Joey repeated conscientiously, "Or still  _won't?"_

"Both?" the other asked, seeking some sort of stable point in Joey's gaze, as if he were unsure the combination were even possible. 

For some reason, the question weighed on him with a terrible pressure that began to break down something heavy in his heart. "I can't answer that for you."

Joey had hoped to come off wise or intellectual, kind of philosophical and sage-like, but the only thing that Kaiba understood about that sentence was the word  _can't_. It was rejection; it was humiliating. "Forget it."

Leaning back suddenly, Joey attempted to lay his palms flat behind his back in order to stage the authenticity of his reposition, but the alcohol had made his true movements sloppy and transparent. "No."

Kaiba's mouth had been in mid-motion when the authoritative response glued it shut, and the brunette had been blindsided into revealing his vulnerability. "Ju-just forget I said anything," blue eyes became dull and downcast, as if not to watch the stutter.

Joey had seen it clear as day though, and it had betrayed every element of Kaiba's confidence. "Then why say it at all?" the question rolled unthinkingly into the air, forcing the brunette to rejoin his vocals with those that continued to draw him out. 

He closed his eyes, however, leaning backward until his shirt rode up, clenching the Manuscript Paper on top of his chest as if it were about to fly away. "Because I'm really drunk."

" _Liar_." The alcohol was bringing out a little of Joey's old self as the lack of Kaiba's assurance seemed to electrify his own, and there was no conceivable trace of hesitation. 

"Well...I'm  _drunk_ ," the executive rephrased, revealing the piece of truth he'd spun from the lie. "Sometimes I say stupid stuff."

"That was personal, not stupid."

Suddenly Kaiba's torso rose forward again, eyes popping open. " _Listen._ I had a really great day today, and I don't want to ruin it." He was sitting more closely than before, shades of blue pleading as he spoke, "Can we please just go to bed instead?"

Joey simply stared at the words in the air. 

"I'll sleep on the floor and everything," Kaiba added quickly.

The proximity that lacked in distance between them made the words seem more intimate than they were, and Joey shook his head reposefully, "No, that's alright, I'll take the floor, you sleep here."

"No, I feel bad," the brunette's voice was unusually soft, almost beckoning. "There's more than enough room."

"For both of us?" Joey asked, wide-eyed, surprised, and flushing. " _Here?"_ he accentuated, pointing down at his mattress.

"Yeah," he shrugged innocently, already crawling over to the corner closest to the wall.

"Isn't that...kind of weird?"

"It's not like I'm asking you to spoon with me," Kaiba rolled his eyes, but without judgement. "The floor is just uncomfortable, and I'd feel rude."

"Well don't," Joey shook his head rapidly, feeling an incredible rush of nerves due to the other boy's lack thereof. "It's fine, you're my guest, I don't mind, I sleep on the floor all the time."

"Wheeler—"

"No, really, it's not a big—"

" _Wheeler_ ," Kaiba repeated over him this time. " _Shut up_ and lay down."

So he did.

"Now go to sleep," Kaiba yawned, pulling the covers back as if they did this every night.

Joey was staring at the ceiling, heart thumping and limbs too afraid to move from their stationary positions. "Goodnight, Kaiba," —several words he never thought he'd fall asleep to. 

"Sleep tight," the other slurred sleepily, turning onto his side, curling the lengths of his legs into an almost fetal position. "And..." then a nervous pause, "...and you don't have to call me that anymore," the brunette spoke quietly, facing the wall with his eyes wide open, "You can call me by my first name if...if you want to."

"Alright." And this time Joey turned to the side as well, with his back to the brunette's and his stomach in knots. "Goodnight..." he breathed in and out quietly, "Seto."

**⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜**

Of all the asses Joey had ever woken up to, he never  _once_ thought that this morning it would belong to a six-foot-three male who he had once hated beyond the ability of words to express. And yet, as his eyes fluttered open in a dull, pained rejection to the light, he stared at the arm against his chest rather calmly. There was a creaky draft drifting through the apartment, but it was so warm where he was laying, curled into a ball on his side, and even warmer where Seto's right hand pressed unintentionally into his shirt.

Twisting and turning respectively as the drugs metabolized and lost their lasting effects, both boys had shifted considerably during the night, their limbs bending and unfolding until their bodies recognized comfortable, less-defensive positions. And Joey had somehow gone from facing the room, to facing the sensation of Kaiba's warm, shallow breathing hitting his face in spurts.

The blonde blinked a few times. It was such a rare sight to see Seto so still—so calm and unmoving—that Joey couldn't help but smile, despite the pulsating head pains of a hundred dollar hangover. Breathing in deeply, he could taste the menthol of the brunette's cigarettes mixed in with stale whiskey, and the slightest traces of leftover spearmint. And for some reason, it was stimulating.

Breathing in and out slowly, as well as irregularly, Kaiba's back and shoulder blades rose and fell, his stomach pressing against the sheets. He'd rolled onto his front side at some point in the night, and twisted the covers all around his legs and lower body. Both legs were bent, one at the knee, crossing over the backside of the other, and creating a perfect _'4',_  which was intertwined with lengths of fabric. 

Tracing the knot of blankets up his long legs, and the unusual sight of wrinkled pants, Joey noticed that the comforter had shifted the waistline on Kaiba's slacks down below his hipbones, but only on one side. Exposing the shapely protrusion of smooth, pale skin as it melted into the small of his back, revealing the areas where his dress shirt had ridden up when he'd tucked his left arm under his head and drawn his right to his side in an unfinished fist.

However, hazel eyes were becoming increasingly distracted, imperfectly conscious, pooling into the dimples that butterflied right below the subtle dip in the brunette's lower body, slipping down his side to the curvature of bone that exposed just the slightest slope of shadowed skin, from his hips up to his abdomen.

The sun was filtering through the shades persistently, and Joey noticed how the rays had crept in so quietly and framed the brunette's dark, tousled hair in delicate, dancing beams of light as they fractured with the swaying of the blinds against the draft. It was pushed down in some places, and fanned out in others, giving Joey a perfect view of Seto, who was facing him with his own pressed to the back of his hand. His piercing eyes were closed and his mouth was open, but not obnoxiously wide or anything, just enough to breathe, with his lips parted perfectly, pressing outward just a little every time he exhaled.

Then there was the right hand again, that right appendage belonging to the bent elbow alongside Kaiba's torso—the one curled unknowingly against the space on Joey's chest where his heart was.  _He looks so...different,_ Joey cocked his head to the side a little, submerging half his cheek into the pillow while watching the other boy with one eye open and the other closed,  _and he's so...close to me..._ The idea was alarming and yet, here he was, lying there, completely transfixed and thrown off by the almost angelic presence across from him.

 _"Way to leave out that he is beyond **gorgeous** ," _he could hear Sam repeating, imagining her reaction to all of this if she'd been there; and, as much as he hadn't intended to, he began to wonder if perhaps this  _was_ what gorgeous really looked like. If perhaps the silence and the stillness were what were stunning, and that perhaps Kaiba in his simplest form, was actually quite beautiful. 

After all, he couldn't rightly find it in his chest to denounce the other as ugly, but at the same time, wasn't completely convinced that made it true that he thought he  _wasn't_  ugly.  _Why do I even care,_ the blonde tried to roll his eyes, but failed because he knew  _exactly_  why he was over speculating so much...

 _...He told me I can call him by his first name now,_ Joey remembered their closing words from the night before, only drawing his eyes forward even more as he shifted just a fraction of space closer, feeling the rhythm of Kaiba's breathing regulate his own.  _He's never so much as 'allowed' me to_ address _him before, **period**..._ and the blonde couldn't deny that part of him felt special for it now, for the fact he was slowly becoming an exception.

Quickly transforming the room around him in quite a stunning contrast, his head and his heart were both pounding under rapid pressure, but it was somehow pleasant the way Joey could feel each knuckle compressing against him. As the spaces between the brunette's fingernails gathered little rolls of fabric from where they'd been periodically burrowing forwards into it. It was almost enough to be a grip—to be holding him—and yet Joey knew better than to believe it was meant to be there; no, it was merely one of the hazards of sharing a bed—people tend to intertwine and tangle. 

Joey also knew he shouldn't be so weird about it, but he didn't know if he wanted to get out of bed yet, didn't know if he'd like what cold, icy things waited for them once they left the sanctity of what happened the night before.  _For all I know, he'll deny the whole thing,_ Joey sighed, knowing it was all too possible,  _or what if he doesn't remember? What if can't figure out why we're even sharing a bed?_ The thought alone was daunting, and dragged him down another notch,  _that means I'll have to explain it all to him, which means he's going to get mad probably..._

Joey released another sigh, deciding to close his eyes, still comforted by the presence of another person he hadn't had, quite like this, in longer than he could remember. Instead, he'd spend so many nights alone, sometimes shivering and scared, sometimes waking up in intervals, and always curling his arms around pillows in search of someone who wouldn't ever be there. This wasn't the same as Mai though... _Kaiba_ still wasn't the same as Mai, _for many, very obvious reasons,_ Joey dually noted; however, it couldn't hurt to let the elder sleep in a little longer too.  _I bet he never sleeps in,_ Joey grinned softly, watching the face in front of him rising and falling in steady waves of silence.

People are always saying you can either sink or swim— _why can't you just float?_

**⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜**

However, the next time both of them came to—flooded with embarrassment—the blonde remembered quite expertly that it was because they were constantly drowning. Drowning in the inconsistencies—in the advancing—in themselves—and it rendered both of them speechless for a good fifteen minutes. 

"So," Joey breathed out with emphasis, staring straight up at the ceiling before catching Kaiba sideways with his eyes, "should we...talk about...girls...or something...?"

Laying next to him, Kaiba lifted himself enough to lean over, "Shut up," he responded, punching Joey in the arm before reverting back to his previous position to cover his face disbelievingly. 

"Guess you're not used to the  _morning after_ —huh?" Joey quipped nervously, rubbing the space on his shoulder he could hardly feel. "I always pegged you for the  _one night stand_ type."

"Oh really?" the brunette re-met the room with a sarcastic sense of intrigue. 

Joey shrugged, adjusting to the feeling of the mattress shifting beneath them as Kaiba turned onto his side. "Well, I sure as hell never imagined you as the breakfast-in-bed-kinda-guy."

"Am I the only one slightly disturbed by the fact that  _these_ are the things you're thinking about me?" Kaiba asked blatantly as they both strategically tiptoed around the topic of waking up in bed next to one another. "Honestly, Wheeler, your fascination with me is questionable," he grinned now, " _flattering_ , but questionable."

"I am not  _fascinated_ with you," Joey scoffed, outwardly blushing. 

" _Soo_ ," Kaiba slid a hand underneath his head to prop it up thoughtfully, "just mildly-obsessed?"

The blonde's entire face scrunched up, irritated, pushing himself into a sitting position, " _You're_ the one who wanted me to sleep here so badly," he rushed in a desperate defense, knowing there was little he could say to justify the deepening color in his face. "So maybe  _you_ have the questionable attraction."

"Well," another infamously unbeatable grin inched its way into the side of his face, and Kaiba's eyes slanted upwardly into Joey's, "I never said anything about being  _attracted_ to me."

"Neither did I!"

" _I don't know_ ," Kaiba's mouth pulled into a speculating side sweep as he shook his head, "You did just try and blame the idea on me," he pointed out skeptically, "so it stands to reckon that you're trying to deny the same thing, does it not?"

Frustrated even further, Joey couldn't find a way around the wording, and his voice fell embarrassedly into almost inaudible tones. "You  _know_  what I meant," he glared at the unchanging amusement across from him.

"Of course," the brunette rolled onto his back again, gesturing with his hands as he stared at the ceiling with shifting facial features, "You're clearly trying to avoid the subject, because you are  _clearly_ quite enthralled with me," blue eyes fell teasingly to the side, "and you think you can turn it all back on me because I told you not to sleep on the floor...Am I leaving anything out?" he asked, as self-assured as the smart ass he couldn't help but act like at the sight of such a playful opening. 

"Yeah," Joey nearly burst with humiliation, more red than Kaiba thought it was humanly possible to turn. "The part where you told me to  _shut up_ and  _lay down_ ," he repeated angrily, almost smugly as he awaited Seto's reaction.

Although he simply received them as factually as they were. "So I did," the other boy turned to smile, "but you're the one who listened."

"Fuck you, Kaiba," Joey scolded, staring him down harshly.

"Relax," the brunette redirected softly, leaning into the eye contact as he almost affectionately flicked the space between the blonde's eyes, "It was just a joke."

"A pretty long running and _unnecessary_ joke," Joey continued unappreciatively under his breath, so god awfully embarrassed by the time he'd spent staring, so taken with the brunette before all this, when he'd still been asleep. 

"But a funny joke, nonetheless," Kaiba pulled himself upward, leaning down over the foot of the bed to fumble through a jacket that had been carelessly dropped. 

Counterproductively watching the arch and fold of Kaiba's body bending forward, Joey once again retraced the dimples above his backside that gave way to even more skin as the brunette's shirt rode halfway up his body. Although he snapped back into the perfect example of oblivious-disinterest as Kaiba retracted with a cigarette pack in hand. 

Extending the nearly empty selection of smokes to Joey, after pulling one out skillfully with his lips, Kaiba leaned into the wall, inspecting the other curiously. "So, are you always so polite when waking up in bed with total strangers?"

The consistently cavalier, yet completely unchaste selection of jokes was making comebacks increasingly hard to find, and Joey grabbed the lighter out of the other's hand before bothering to respond ineffectually as he knew he was bound to. "One, you're not a total stranger," Joey started unconfidently, stalling in the repetitions of his cigarette, "and two,  what makes you think I  _always_ wake up in situations like this?"

Kaiba leaned forward, maneuvering around the other's body in search of an ashtray. "Isn't it obvious?" he offered, reaching passed Joey's right hand side for a half empty water bottle on the night stand.

"What are you implying?" Joey's eyes narrowed.

"Well, you _have_  seemed to make a new friend rather fast," Kaiba suggested in that painfully obvious tone he always took on, "A  _female_ friend," his lips continued to grin suggestively, "and she seems quite taken with you, if I remember correctly."

"Sam?" Joey asked with his eyebrows wrinkled, "No way, we're just friends."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Of course I'm sure," he sent an irritated eye-roll at the brunette as he took the water bottle out of his hands to ash his menthol into.

"Is  _she_ sure?" Kaiba continued, perpetually basking in the guilty pleasure he got out of getting a rise from the blonde. 

"Why don't you ask  _her_ ," Joey redirected sarcastically, "Or, oh wait—her  _boyfriend_ ," he concluded the advancing of the argument, dragging harshly on his cigarette. "Y'know, just because I talk to a girl doesn't automatically mean I'm fucking her," he dismissed in offense, unintentionally thinking back towards the memory of his father. 

"But you have, haven't you?" Kaiba prompted, "fucked quite a few—I mean?"

The color in the blonde's face confusedly fell back into flushing patterns that flashed back and forth between infuriation and shame, "So what if I have?" he demanded, "It's totally irrelevant and none of your business."

"On the contrary," Kaiba dragged his cigarette, "I think I deserve to know if I should have myself tested, y'know? Don't wanna catch any  _cooties_ ," he employed the word humorously, but Joey continued to explode. 

"Tested?" he asked forcefully, "Like you have any room to talk."

"And what ever do you mean?" the brunette asked innocently, although thoroughly amused with his self-knowing smile. 

"Oh, spare me  _Mr. I'm So Rich I Make Panties Hit The Floor_ ," Joey sneered, shaking his head and dropping the cigarette filter into the water with a hiss before fingering through the leftover three to grab another. "Don't _even_ try and act like you're so pure and innocent."

"I wasn't aware that money could defy gravity," Kaiba breathed out the smoke thoughtfully.

"Don't change the subject," the blonde reprimanded, almost certain he'd secured the reverse of this ungodly argument once and for all, but unaware how awkwardly it was about to come back at him.

"I'm afraid I had no other choice," blue eyes bore no trickery, and Kaiba simply shrugged, "you see, it's a topic I can't really contribute much to."

" _Ahuh_ ," Joey nodded, not falling for the modesty, "Because  _you_ of all people are so hard up for a date, right?  _You_ , with all the smooth lines and sly looks," Joey asked, speculating too sarcastically to notice how in detail he was delving, "with the perfect bone structure and the playboy façade? Yeah, I'm sure you're as celibate as can be," hazel eyes rolled, " _not_."

"Perfect _bone structure_?" Kaiba implored with a  _tsk-tsking_  and the shake of his head, "You really have put a lot of thought into this—haven't you, Wheeler?"

"It was just a generalization," he shot the comment away with disregard and lack of conviction. 

"Well, I really hate to keep disappointing you," Kaiba now peered down into the more than half-empty cigarette pack too, reaching for the second to last, "but I really can't, to the best of my ability, say that I've ever truly slept with anyone actually."

"What? Why? _Liar_ ," Joey sputtered, saying each word one after the other in a hurried train of outwardly projected logic. 

"Well, which is it, then?" the brunette gestured, prompting the blonde to make up his mind as he continued to draw more and more attention away from last night; despite the fact the conversation was pulling even more intimately into his personal history. 

"All three," Joey stuck by his original statement, " _What—_ because there's no **way** I heard you correctly.  _Why—_ because there is **no** rational explanation.And  _liar_ —because you're lying through your teeth right now."

"Well, get your ears checked then," the brunette fought the issue with little resistance, framing his face amusedly in the hung-over inconsistency of his confession, "because you heard me right as rain.  _Which_ negates the necessity of requiring an explanation," he tacked on systematically, "thus validating my claim truthfully," Kaiba concluded, flawlessly and unchallengeable as always.

Suddenly Joey felt almost self-conscious as he sat in bed next the brunette, realizing that Kaiba really  _wasn't_ trying to bullshit him, that he was actually  _serious_. And for some reason that made him feel used and just a little desperate as he realized his own number extended well past seven... _completely different people..._

"Well, don't _I_ feel like a regular _back-ally Sally_ ," he released a staggered, dumbfounded breath. 

"And you made me feel so terrible for saying so the first time," Kaiba grinned, dodging the swat that shot out unthinkingly at his head, missing by a fraction and knocking the cherry off his cigarette instead. "Oh, well now look what you've done," the brunette swatted at the smoldering mass sinking through the sheets in an emboldening set of rings, losing his seriousness to laughter as his lips wavered into a smile, "popping cherries all over the place," he discouraged, shaking his head and trying to keep a straight face.

The directness and the indefectible parallel of the reference, however, re-froze the blonde and the never ending spectrums of scarlet melted the stillness on his face into scattered movements of unfixed stability.

"If that was another one your demented requests," he began under unsure confidences, realizing the absence of his medicine for the first time as it drew the reality of their conversation more organically into mind. "Then you can just forget about it," the blonde finished, looking downward immediately and shaking his head to himself, as if to reprimand the stupidity. 

In a similar approach to the unprovoked atmosphere of conversing under the pretext of sobriety, Kaiba's hand slipped up and over his mouth after a moment of fumbling through his pockets once more and swallowing dryly. "And what makes you think I'd go for  _you_?" he asked, almost condescendingly beneath the continuously impish advances that were unable to discontinue his control over the ebb and flow of the other. 

"Are you  _trying_ to make me as uncomfortable as humanly possible right now?" Joey asked, too red in the face now to conjure comebacks at all, "or are you just secretly enjoying this,  _that_ much?"

"Eh," Kaiba tipped his head this way and that as he feigned contemplation, "I guess they go together pretty equally. So, guilty as charged," he allowed, inching forward as he scooted off the bed, collecting his jacket and standing up straight. "Now, c'mon, I've got to change into something that doesn't smell like an ashtray," he yawned, leaving Joey in the same exasperated state of incredulity he always did when chasing the boundaries between them and crossing each one just enough to draw out the tension.

"And I suppose you need me to come along because you can't dress yourself?" Joey asked, both caught up in the increase of adrenaline and anxiety and nervously exposing his disposition uncomfortably as this whole conversation provoked his thoughts in directions they'd never quite gone before. 

"No, I'm quite capable," he opened the door, "but you, on the other hand, are not," the brunette smiled, provoking enough to get the other out of bed. "Besides, I wouldn't mind the company."

And for whatever reason, Joey followed. 

**⤛⟪⧝⟫⤜**

_Remind me to **kill** Sam, _ he thought, half-mad with the morning as it intertwined with the previous night, tying off little knots until the comparison turned into a ladder between where her words had begun harmlessly on the ground and to the unfathomable heights they'd climbed into context.  _Why'd she have to say all that stuff about us?_ He over speculated, having been unable to ingest his medicine under Kaiba's observation, and paying the price as he grew nervously out of character.  _Because **of course** we'd end up sleeping the same bed the exact same night she does, _ he rolled his eyes, having almost forgotten the sentimental tones they'd fallen asleep to against the sensually sarcastic subject matter it'd lead to. 

Kaiba yawned, lazily dropping his jacket onto the chair while his first initiative had been to begin shuffling around his countertops with the  _clanking_ of glass bottles shifting against each other until he pulled one forward decidedly. "Drink?" he called out to Joey, who was now mindlessly encircling the apartment, running his fingers along the edges of Kaiba's piano. 

"At ten in the morning?" Joey questioned, thinking uneasily to the Jack Wheeler-Early Bird Special, "Aren't you still drunk enough from last night?"

"Less drunk," Kaiba sighed, groaning simultaneously, "More hangover. Absolutely.  _Miserable_ ," he slumped forward, seemingly more distracted by his state of being than he had been back in Joey's room. 

"And straight shots of bourbon is supposed to…help this?" the blonde's eyes widened as his head cocked to the side, almost smiling at the hopelessly collapsed posture of the brunette leaning over his countertops, disinterestedly pouring the liquid into a glass that was too tall.

"Of course it is," his eyes slipped sideways, encircling Joey with that  _know it all_  narrowing of the eyes, "Everybody knows that."

"Guess I'll take your word for it," he turned away, tempted undeniably at the opportunity to mask himself in something more calming in place of the pills he'd left at home and out of reach.

Kaiba took the credit as compliance however, and opened his cabinet to retrieve another glass, "So, two?" he asked, although Joey wasn't sure why, when he noticed the brunette had already begun to pour it.

"What the hell," the blonde shrugged, walking forward to embrace the half full container that Kaiba handed him before waving Joey through the doorway on the other side of the room where he walked into his bedroom to retrieve a change of clothes.

Sipping the drink greedily, excited as it subdued the sharpness in his stomach into softer, duller radiations of discomfort and apprehension, it hardly translated to him that he was now standing in Seto's bedroom; but once it did, the usual attention to detail that would have had him analyzing every inch of the space, had fallen fixedly around the possessive noun rather than the room itself. The lingering, left over drunk from yesterday was mixing in quite nicely to contrast the new upcoming level of intoxication as it took hold of him with little tolerance, feeling the alcohol flood into his face and his brain simultaneously.

Both following the toxin through his blood stream as it dissolved undecidedly and feeling his words turn to lies in his mouth as he developed  _quite_  an undeniable fascination... _Gorgeous, huh?_  he chewed his bottom lip, trying to wrap his head around the meaning of the word again as it transposed with things he'd said like  _"perfect bone structure,"_ and wondering how it was that their conversations could transition so naturally between disconnected extremes.

However the transition had taken place as the extremes connected themselves in a series of mismatched instances leading back to the co-existing reality that Joey could not shake from his mind; sighing skeptically, he drew this strange shift in curiosity around in circles with his looks and glances, and tried to see what it was _exactly_ that Sam had seen so easily _...He has nice eyes...I guess,_  the blonde allowed—even though those eyes had changed his life, but that had never been a source of beauty before, and Joey glanced backward, half-drunkenly dissecting the brunette as he undid the top buttons of his shirt.

His chestnut hair fell messily around his face in a disheveled swoop that, somehow, still seemed to frame his face perfectly, and his eyes had grown less blue under the glazed tint and the dilatation while his shoulders rose up to his ears with a squeaky hiccup.

Not bothering with the clothes the executive had offered, Joey continued his thorough deconstruction, following the inwards curve between the brunette's eyes down to where they met on the bridge of his nose.

"Are you going to get changed?" he heard Kaiba ask, without ever looking up once from what he was doing, "Or are you just going to keep staring at me?"

Every visible patch of flesh flushed and Joey reached uncoordinatedly for the stack of clothes beside him, carelessly knocking them onto the floor.

The soft impact was cause for Kaiba to disengage his buttons and walk forward, kneeling down, still hiccuping; and Joey couldn't help but notice the muscular curvature down the brunette's stomach as his dress shirt hung open by several fastens and fell away from his body like an invitation to make eyes at the way it leaned closer to him .

"Take a picture," he pushed himself back to his feet, handing Joey the t-shirt and pants with a grin, "It'll last longer."

Now flushed turned to fuchsia and left the blonde at a loss for words, collecting the pile hastily and setting off for the bathroom.

"First door on the left," the brunette called out, pulling his arms out from his sleeves, and Joey hurried to close and lock the door behind him.

 _Not cool,_  his thoughts sputtered instantaneously, pressing his back against the doorframe,  _not cool, not cool, **so**  not _fucking _cool,_  his body bounced up and down agitatedly like a child unable to constrain itself.  _Seriously, Joey,_  he addressed himself objectively,  _what the hell was that, huh?_ He demanded, instantly realizing how dangerously he was overstepping the personal boundary that they'd formed too recently to bend just yet.  _Are you **trying**  to lose this bet on purpose? Because you're sure as hell slipping up,_ he shook his head, turning to the sink and twisting the faucet to ice-cold as he splashed the shock of reality onto his face.

There was a soft knock on the other side after a good ten minutes of indecision had fallen over the blonde's frame and rendered him stagnant, hearing Kaiba speak out softly. "Are you ever coming back out?"

Joey didn't respond though, he was too busy staring at his own reflection, assessing the way the long-sleeved shirt hung too low on his neckline, revealing his collarbone as he pulled the fabric downward with his fists curled into the edges of the sleeves. The color was unfamiliar to anything in his wardrobe, and yet he thought the shade of blue was only fitting to be of Kaiba's own. However, just as the shirt had shifted unfamiliarly to his smaller frame, Joey was forced to hold the pair of pants up at the side to keep them from sliding right back off, picking his feet up undecidedly as they pooled in the legs that flooded against the ground.

"You aren't embarrassed…are you?" the tone was catching onto the drifts that weren't as obvious earlier, but the amphetamine salts were seeping into them and stinging him ever so slightly as he dropped another octave. "…because I was only joking about all that stuff—honest."

Joey sighed, almost more offset by the consideration in the voice than he was by the contradictory things it'd been saying just seconds earlier "No, I'm not embarrassed," he answered, and effectively lied at the same time, pushing the door forth gingerly, "I just look  _ridiculous_ ," he stepped into view, showing off the set of clothes that clearly didn't fit.

Kaiba suppressed his laughter as respectfully as he could as he glanced up and down at the parachute of an outfit the other was struggling to keep up, "Do you want a belt?" he implored, unable to resist as his lips formed a suggestive smile, "Or did you not want to keep them on?"

* * *

 


	15. Careful What You Wish For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I decided to revisit this, since the whole 2017 new YGO movie has gotten me way too excited and I wound up rereading my whole story over again in anticipation, relishing being thrown back on an old school YGO kick, and because it's been awhile since I've updated. And I've got about two or three completed chapters leftover and just still laying around before I'm back to writing new chapters in real time again. So, figured I may as well post them in celebration of all things Yu-Gi-Oh-2017-Style.
> 
> Like, seriously, wtf, such an unexpected, raaandom, and nostalgically WONDERFUL surprise to have happening after this many years. I mean, I expect the increasingly awful, and downright cringeworthy, new versions of YGO that are always coming out by now, but to resurrect the ORIGINAL cast, clad them in this shiny, enticing upgraded pretty animation style, AND release an English dubbed version with all (as far as I know) the original voice actors? After a little over, what, TEN, TWENTY years? THAT SHIT, I did NOT expect. It's like the best reunion ever, hah, way too old to be getting this hyped, but I don't even care about my OWN ten-year reunion this much. It's gonna roll around eventually and I'm just gonna be like, "Yeah, well, I mean...it's no Yu-Gi-Oh...but whatever, you guys'll do, I guess..."
> 
> Hah, for real, still geeking out over here, so excited and singularly consumed, and so not even talking about this story at all. Gah, this damn movie!! NO I'm not going to see it in theaters this Saturday...and I'm CERTAINLY NOT driving four and half hours from Illinois to Ohio for the night JUST to see it with my little sister who happens to go to school out there because we found a singular theater by her campus showing it while we were on break. haha. Totally pissed that it came out two weeks after we had to leave our house where it was, of course, showing in like EIGHT theaters, NONE farther central where I live/go to school, and my sister automatically denouncing the chance it was possibly going to play out by her either, until my inner-addict-gotta-get-my-fix insisted on the google search and (ﾉ✷∇✷)ﾉ ﾐ _/ .... #$%*!
> 
> ONE theater, tickets preordered, planned out, and TWO days away from happening.
> 
> One day away from leaving to embark on my journey, and fuck. yes. Two hours of pure nostalgia to submerge myself into, my sister and I abandoning all shame for being in our twenties and making the YGO movie the highlight of our Saturday. Totally worth the nine hour roundtrip drive, gas money, and a room at the red-roof-in, cause fuck it, let's be fancy. 
> 
> (Ahem) ANYWAYS. Holy crap. Sorry. Please enjoy this spew of updates, to anyone besides me who reads this, and the progressively puppy shipping quirks I'm finally getting to throw in more explicitly. Whatever's leftover should be a pretty proportional balance too, in terms of dialogue/interaction/narrational paragraphs. This one a tad wordier in the middle, but, good, rewarding wordier.

* * *

**_ALSO!!! I can't remember if I ever gave my shout-out, thank-you, comment-review-reviews-just-minus-the-reviews-and more along the lines of bookmarks-and-kudos:_ So I'm just going to do it all over again to be sure!**

**So, a very special thank you to _LaceKyoko1138, DancingFlame, JMarieAllenPoe,_ and the three other _guests_ who've left me kudos! One of which I actually, to my unforeseen surprise, am pretty sure was recent, like a week ago according to my email. Which is awesome. All six of you are fucking awesome, for real, thank you so much. And again, to  _JMarieAllenPoe_ , who went as far as to bookmark this, another big thank you!**

**_(_** ﾉ◕ヮ◕ ** _)_** ﾉ ** _*:_** ·ﾟ✧ 

**You're all magical, magical people for humoring this old, fanfic challenged writer!**

* * *

⟳ỻ∀℘⟂ℇℛ⦂⓯  
❖  
**⇡⒞ªƦ⏙ϝᶸℓ Ϣℏ⎀⊺ Ỿ◴ᴜ ϢꟾẟͰ ꜡⌭ꝛ⇣**

* * *

" _So-help-me-_ ** _god_** _,_ " Joey breathed in and out heatedly, "that  _better_ have been rhetorical."

Kaiba cocked his head to the side. "Or what?"

Not helping— _whatsoever_ —the direct challenge left Joey tense and unable to deliver. Lost within insincere confidences and the unfamiliar circumstances that were framing so clearly in his face. Evident defeat forming a flustered tone of annoyance as he spoke, "You  _suck_."

"I'm not even going to touch that one," the other grinned, turning away with both hands up in surrender. 

The blonde's eyebrows furrowed before catching the implication, "Oh  ** _god_** ," he exclaimed, "you're awful, you know that?"

Slightly slanted baby blue eyes glanced back mischievously, "I  _may_ know a thing or two about it," he smiled.

Joey's head shook in response, rearranging his features into a tipping balance of awe and disbelief. "Who  _are_ you?"

"I already told you, Wheeler," Kaiba drew a cigarette between his lips before continuing towards the doorway, "not who you think I am."

Following at his heels, hazel eyes wrapped around every word, unable to stop something in them from starting to change; even more so than before. 

"And how do  _you_  know what I think of you?"

The brunette withdrew the extinguishing lighter, glancing up from what he was doing with a half-smile that seemed sad somehow. "That's easy," his usually steady vocals faltered, "not much."

_"Well, it's just...you say stuff like that to me by default. How come you always automatically assume the worst?"_

**_"It's what I know. It's who you are_. _"_ **

Joey bit his tongue, suddenly embarrassed by the realization that he'd genuinely hurt the other boy's feelings. "Well," he began, feeling shy and slightly childish. "I guess I just didn't know any better."

"Oh, and after a few days, suddenly you're an expert?"

The blonde absorbed the rattle of the brunette's biting sarcasm returning as was only natural.

 "No, I never said that," he replied calmly, stomaching all the comebacks and potential slights, "but I  _am_ learning a lot," then a hesitant pause, "and I've never thought more differently."

"Then perhaps I was also mistaken," Kaiba extended two fingers toward his cigarette, exhaling thoughtfully. Unable to deny the unimaginable success of the other's efforts, but not quite ready to abandon his deflective demeanor just yet either. "Maybe you really  **can** teach an old dog new tricks."

"So, you make mistakes now, huh?" Joey pulled his lips into a smirk.

An initial scowl surfacing across from him, but the blonde's victorious tone was somehow subduing as he diffused the tensing of a well stomached insult with nothing more than a sing-song-stringing-along of three seemingly meaningless words, " _Fact Number_ ** _Five_.** "

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"How could I forget something?" he asked confusedly, "It's a  _list_."

"Well, lists are numerical," the brunette rationalized, "and last time I checked, four still comes before five."

" _Yeah_ , I know how to count," Joey rolled his eyes, retorting evenly, "I can read well above the 4th grade level too, incase you were wondering."

The CEO ignored him. "What was it then?"

"What was what?"

Kaiba sighed agitatedly at having to repeat himself. " _Number Four,_ " he emphasized, "I remember one through three, but I don't believe you ever broadcasted the fourth."

"Oh,  _that_..." Joey flushed ever so slightly, synchronously with those feelings of shyness deepening before they finally dissolved, dematerializing in the empty stomach of alcohol that his second thoughts insisted on being swallowed into, "...it was your name."

"My name?"

The answer seemed to confuse him. 

"That's what I said," Joey rocked back on his heels, almost too nervous to repeat the simple word itself as his feet segued into a self-conscious shuffle, "...you do remember telling me, right?"

Blue eyes closed, concealing any specific emotion, "Yeah, I remember."

The blonde assessed the smoke rings appearing absentmindedly from above the steady features no longer openly facing him, eyes closed and even-toned as always—not about to elaborate willingly—but Joey had known as much when he'd brought it up. Trying to gauge the  _Modified Seto Scale_  in order to determine the potential damage of inquiring any further, well aware that he was treading in very volatile territory.  _How_ volatile, it was hard to say, but such a sensitive subject may as well have been a _suicide_ mission a month or two ago, and even now— _especially now—_ it wasn't completely clear whether or not the severity of the repercussions still remained. Making him exponentially more apprehensive than usual—having never thought of himself as a person most likely to fret over attention to detail and thrown off by every time he'd contradicted that since.

Since incorporating Kaiba into his life had turned his brain inside out then upside down on itself, pausing, waiting, watching, _paying closer attention,_ taking notes as he went.  _Rehearsing_ , he felt like a hypocrite. After pronouncing the other's way of doing things  _stupid_  and boasting about being so genuine and  _in_ _the moment;_ but he'd begun to understand it wasn't that it was _in_ -genuine, and it wasn't stupid either, it was actually _a lot_ smarter than he was used to feeling. More confident, less embarrassed. Which, at the moment, meant he could afford to be 100% himself less and less—one false slip of the tongue and he could ruin everything—or, at the very least, evoke a storm of ensuing unpleasantries—and he wasn't very keen on either.

"It's alright," Kaiba uncharacteristically offered intuitive understanding in the form of unfamiliarly reassuring words, "I don't regret telling you if that's what you're worrying about," he summarized Joey's unease in a single phrase; unsure of whether or not the true extent of such a bold statement would actually hold out against any future prying, context and countermeasure intermingling, still much too early to try telling the two of them apart.

A sigh of relief filled the air, however, providing all the evidence the other needed to confirm that Joey had literally been holding his breath. 

"Yeah, actually," the blonde reaffirmed, "something like that."

"Oh?" an inquiry surfaced, one eye opening in amusement, "I didn't know that you were so afraid to displease me."

Joey scowled, "Don't flatter yourself."

"What then? Just practicing your deep-breathing exercises, I presume?"

"Leave it to you not to overlook something like  _that_ ," he submitted sheepishly, "even with your eyes closed, not much gets past you, does it?"

"Well, for starters, sighs are  _audible_ ," the elder dismissed, "so sight is sort of irrelevant." 

Growing slightly irritated, Joey didn't go out of his way to provoke the playful undertones this time around. Instead, discouraged by the routine deflecting that continued to distance them, his tone went flat, "I was only trying to say that you're extremely observant," he glanced down, pulling at the fabric that was way past the point of fitting, neckline restlessly stretching to reveal more of his shoulder than before. "That's all."

"Yes," Kaiba agreed, aware of the ensuing disheartenment across from him, "I'm very observant."

"You don't have to patronize me, either," Joey responded cooly. Deciding to substitute more words with a cigarette instead, snatching the lighter from Kaiba's hand in a fell, defiant swoop. "I'm not a child _,_ don't be so quick to condescend whenever it suits you." 

Or, at least...that's the sort of thing he'd had _in mind_...but something about being around the other boy always made him ramble. This incessant need to have the last word that resulted in his rehearsal falling apart and his hand falling short—not quite so ready for, or aware of, for that matter, the sort of improvisation that years of experienced acting granted a person—his fingers forty degrees from forming a fist full of hot air rather than the plastic body of the flammable, fluid filled oblong he'd been aiming for that left him on edge. The sensation of superior reflexes wrapping around his wrist startling him, suddenly the only thing he could feel. The only surefire silhouette amidst the wavering certainty of a few others that wasn't nearly as settling as it was undeniably sound.

So quick and catlike that he couldn't comprehend how the other had managed to outmaneuver him so effortlessly. Not that it should have come as that big of a shock, I mean, this  _was_ still Kaiba after all. Face morphing more adversarially than before when both the failed attempt and the unexpected contact equipoised, then unbalanced. Stomach knotting as he immediately tried to retract from the slender fingers that held him more delicately than he would have liked them to, but found that the action was met with further renunciation, rearing its head unproductively as the opposing force rejected the notion of retreat. 

"Not so fast," the brunette intervened, subduing the other with the same unreadable absence of anger in his face as before, pulling himself forward rather than Joey back, as if not to inflict anymore physical damage.

Ever too aware of the crescent shaped scars beneath his palm to be so reckless, each risen centimeter of assaulted skin already seeming to wax and wane beneath the current weight, the brief phases of such unpleasant symmetries expanding and contracting against what was only _real **enough**._ Neither substantial nor insubstantial enough to dispel the ongoing sequence, the touch and go footage of a scene that, likewise, flickered  _on_ and  _off_ , but otherwise endlessly. So faint, but never far from memory, it was the least he could do, to try and soften the force of something so god awful and heavy. 

The sentiment behind such a complex gesture was lost to Joey, though, who instinctually altered his stance to expect the worst. Expression contorting unfavorably to find the proper face in sight of such an unpredictable proximity, quite contrary in comparison to his prior realizations—no longer room for reserving any benefit over what he had little doubt, free hand flexing at his side, inner extemporization all but literally propelling it to the front of the executive's shirt. 

Forming a stationary fist in place of what he considered brash, it was as close a compromise in Joey's eyes as it was an enactable countermeasure. Just  _barely_ able to restrain himself. 

"Listen," he incited, in his most civil tone of voice, cigarette moving awkwardly between his lips as he spoke, "what's the big—" unexpectedly hindered by the sight of fire flickering against the motion of his  _Marlboro._ Singing the tip and sending his hostility up in smoke. 

"You forgot to say please," Kaiba finished calmly with a funny grin. The most unfamiliar feature of all thus far, all innocent and almost impish, with his lighter still partially extended. 

Joey just stared. Inhaling in sync with the gesture and hoping for the nicotine to stimulate some surefire response. But his eyes were far too fixated to allow his mouth to form words. Even his brain couldn't fill in the blanks.

"Impatient as always, I see." His smile pulled to one side, almost fondly. "Honestly, was it really too much trouble to ask?" the executive pondered, in what appeared to be a joking manner, but he was standing  _way_ too close. 

Releasing a thick cloud of smoke that refused to dissipate the distance, Joey was forced to breathe in the image his eyes had, troublesomely, grown so equally fond of themselves. The smell of cologne and cigarettes thick in his nostrils, almost asphyxiating. A certain degree of warmth beginning to transfer from that able grip, that graceful, pale appendage that sent shivers up and down his spine, flashing back to the night before. Terrified those piercing eyes across from him would soon unfold the unspoken truth of what he was really feeling in the span of seconds. 

Only they  _weren't_ piercing, they weren't even searching, just connecting. Just too normal to belong to Kaiba. Even after every other new face he'd exposed to the blonde—every miscalculated feature—this person across from him was by far the most foreign. 

That ripple effect of rings around his pupils growing nearly nonexistent, revealing an ineffable intricacy of softer, shallower waters which temporarily dispelled the darker coloring that had always enshrouded and then suffocated them. Too involuntary to go unnoticed, and too out of character to be considered a mere flaw, there was few and far between leftover to act as ample enough reasons. Anything convincing enough to even  _begin_ to serve as an answer to the unimaginable question of  _why_ that remained. Very much alive and very much breathing, ironically taking away from every sign of life reflected in the reciprocating pair until the resemblance was laughable. Inverting so expertly and so openly, in such a unique way, that it felt more than  _just_ out of place. 

It wasn't even  **natural.**

Joey swallowed hard, dying on the inside for a second drink, or another pill, or a pill  _period_ , for  _anything_ besides the transfixing vibrancy that seemed, in that short instance, to accept him completely. 

 _The eyes of a child,_  he thought softly, _entirely unafraid_. 

Uncorrupted by causation and free from expectancy, having not yet experienced the disappointment of living, of letting others in. 

 _So innocent._  

So unrecognizable.

As if they'd reverted back to a premature state from a time that was completely out of Joey's reach, no more real to him than the figments of Mai when his mind played tricks on him, and he blinked once more just to make sure. However, perhaps it was the product of his imagination after all, because the rings had all expanded again like ripples in a pond—disrupting the fragile, glassy surface and disfiguring the reflection of clarity—surrendering the stillness of this inconceivable stalemate to the inevitability of motion. 

"I don't bite, you know," he released Joey's hand gently. Eliminating the only barrier that stood between them, but holding fast, body still as close as it was a second ago, maybe even closer. It was getting hard to discern. Going out of his way—for the eight-hundredth ungodly, unknown reason—to establish an awareness between the words the other wasn't saying and the body language that was giving it away. 

Assessing the arm, bent but lifeless, that was still just a fraction from his chest where he'd released it; long enough ago, that it shouldn't have stayed within sight for a second longer than it had to, and yet, had gone limp at the wrist instead. Wondering why Joey hadn't snapped it back into place like he so vehemently tried to in the first place, unaware of what was preventing the blonde from moving period now that he was no longer weighted. Of what could have _possibly_ constituted this clearly ill-fitting image that so directly opposed the original picture. So strange to see such an animated individual rendered so unprovoked into a state of such counterintuitive and stationary silence. 

Not a single glare or retaliatory strike. Not even a failed attempt. Just complete submission. The sort of situational abnormality that provoked Kaiba's curiosities, grasping the obviousness of the discomfort he'd caused, but to his surprise, not the reason it was instilling such disassembly to Joey's otherwise resilient defenses.  His silence was one thing, and his occasional awkward shifting another, but _this_ , this was something else entirely. And so he quietly wrapped his hand around the other's immobile, unformed fist, and brought it back into his own without warning. 

Joey barely blinked, let alone allowed his eyes to be drawn away from the metamorphosing man he was struggling to match with even the proper name now. Wondering if this was Kaiba, or maybe Hashimoto, or just Seto. Or how many alternate personalities he even had to begin with. Or whether all three were just an illusion of a greater whole—a nameless little boy with no true identity. Destined to shift in and out of someone else's skin like a hermit crab transferring shells, outgrowing his security blanket and searching elsewhere for shelter. 

Whether or not even  _he_ knew the differences between them. Where he'd been and where he'd gone, who he was or wasn't or was pretending to be, if such an answer really existed. If  _he_ even really existed. If he was anyone at all...Joey frowned, his train of thought saddening him in sync with the sensory awareness of knuckles bending, his own included, and resting between the corresponding spaces of those they'd folded in place. 

Finally forced to look away, he watched as Kaiba's entire hand enveloped his own until it had completely disappeared beneath skin so delicate and clear that it was practically porcelain. The final product of this flawless, intricate ceramic ware made of kaolin, quartz, and feldspathic rock before the clay had been fired, still molding and taking shape. Sheltering his indecision like a protective outer casing as he slowly started to lower both Joey's literal and figurative guard, the result of which had thrust the blonde back into reality.

The actuality of this awkward, drawn out moment they were sharing all rushing around him in a mind-fuck of motion that wasn't actually moving, heart rate accelerating and crawling up into his throat. The entire idea that Seto Kaiba was holding his hand, albeit far from in the traditional sense, throwing him off any discernible track. Not that there was anything sexual about the way the brunette was touching him, just the  _fact_ he was touching him, it was too much to process. Abdomen tightening unnaturally, trying to breathe and ease into his usual self at the same time, and failing at both. More tightly wound than a ball of fresh twine. Ready and waiting to snap, physically unravel, and then submit to the senseless, shapeless strewn about state of a million messy little miniature nooses waiting to ensnare his every step, entangling beneath him.

To trip or strangle or drag him out to sea. Something horrible. Yet, somehow, all of the above being more preferable to standing there, accumulating pressure, so ready to rebound so much higher on the Richter Scale than he was mentally or physically prepared for. 

Losing his shit as his rampant thoughts assessed the embrace, the length of each individual finger, the way they applied just enough pressure to connect, like the two of them had been adjacent puzzle pieces. Thumbs diagonally overlapping like added support, as if he were actually afraid he might drop it. Taking in how unexpectedly safe it was making him feel. How fragile and delicately something so fierce and strong could react towards the same person they'd collided relentlessly with so many times in the past. Whether blows to his ego, or to his body, those hands had never been anything but rough. 

Wishing he knew why the other was suddenly regarding him as something worthy of treating so kindly, whether or not this was really Kaiba's hand still pressed against his as the brunette casually repositioned it back at his side. And  _hating_  himself for thinking how perfectly they fit together. How once the maneuver was over and Kaiba's fingers unfolded, the touch seemed all too fleeting. Feeling helpless and cold when he had no reason for either to consume him so readily, realizing how completely embarrassing it all was. How stupid he had to look, with his stone-faced staring, almost half a cigarette of ash cascading down in uneven streams from the mouth too stupid and motionless to speak, let alone perform as simple a task as  _smoking_. Suddenly feeling an entirely new level of mortification and idiocy altogether when it boiled down to the fact that this fucking cigarette had set this entire thing in motion and he hadn't even _smoked_ the damn thing. Just let it burn away.

Not only that, but Kaiba lit the goddamn thing for him and everything. Going against every arrogant bone in his entire body in order to lighten the mood after Joey had undergone a similarly uncharacteristic fit, and handling the boy's hostility with nothing but the utmost kindness. The kind of thing that didn't come easily, or often, and for all his efforts, Joey didn't even have the tact to assess the situation for all it was worth. Betraying his own attempts to forge some kind of bond when he couldn't even  _respond_ once the effort was finally being reciprocated. 

 _You colossal fuck up,_ Joey cursed, closing his eyes because they'd been engaging the exit route of the other's hand retracting this  _whole_ time.  _Longingly, too,_  he groaned. Not ignorant enough to believe it could be, or would be, overlooked by either party. 

All the while, Kaiba was simply staring, though, mentally transcribing the transmuting properties in the blonde's ever alternating expression. The rounded, vacuous, void-like eyes that followed his movements. The kind of eyes you'd see on a stray dog stuck out in the middle of the rain. So pathetic it was provoking. The way they looked so wet and reflective and worried all at once. Abandoned without the faintest idea why. 

Seeking refuge in every passerby. This ingrained sense of loyalty still longing for the master that disowned it to turn the corner. For the connection of an invisible leash to form and retract between the unfamiliarity and the comfort of routine necessity it had been long stripped of. No idea how to exist on its own accord and no way to speak, but still absently wagging its tail. A few inattentive, scattered  _thuds_ against concrete. Eyes so wide and willing to trust until the street lights came on and the rain didn't stop and that lonely pup laid down its head, completely drenched as if it were crying. 

Fur sleek and matted, soaked to the bone and shaking, so shiny and sad it made you reconsider. Reevaluating who you were as a person, knowing now how many times you'd passed this dog in the street before and may as well of kicked it.  _And you probably did_ , he flexed his jaw, such an awful taste setting in when he considered that those stray, sought after glances could shut forever, the fact they almost did. 

On that day he didn't dare speak of. 

Willingly renouncing his worthiness to live. Much too eager to embrace an eternity of emptiness for the chance to see her. He hated that expression on his face, the way his lashes were drooping into singular pairs, so voided and defeated that even  _he'd_ been forced to speak. Even back then. Even when there had been nothing but mutual annoyance, harsh words, inexplicable hatred, and fucking  _card games_ to connect them, none of this...this  _whatever the fuck they were_ now even a remote possibility or  _fathomable_  reality in either of their minds. Nothing to make the statement he had to  _fight_ from resounding make even the  _slightest_ sense when it did not belong  _whatsoever_ , or the reason behind why it had had such an immensely profound impact as much as even _semi_ -rational. But it hurt, it was hollowing, and he  _fucking_ hated it. 

 _Anything but that_ , his stomach hurt, revitalizing the unfamiliarity of feeling when he thought, selfishly, of how much he'd miss seeing that color. It was as simply and as suddenly as he could remember the realization striking him, and it struck twice as fast this time. Whether or not they went down in flames didn't matter, the idea of Joey giving up hope was like losing it altogether.

His own hand drawn to retracing their steps now, fingers tensing absently against nothing. Far more uncomfortable with the similarities between these two faces than he'd ever say in so many words. The lip-turning extend of loneliness and unease in the eyes of a dog who was truly down, the scent of rain coming to life and the memory exclusively repeating in the pitter-patter of dissolving dots. 

 _If I let them shut now, I'll be lost too..I swear, I won't let it happen, to_ ** _either_** _of us, you don't have to sit out in the rain anymore, just come stay with me,_ the brunette was hyper-sensitively spewing, _I have more than enough room,_ ** _too much room_** _, we'll be safe there,_ such an innocent idea. Brought on by the rush of  _Serotonin_ and overly empathetic inability to watch anymore.

 _...don't you know that I can't stand it when you look at me this way? Like it's all just..._ pointless.

Sort of like the way Joey's eyes were closing now, that same sentiment, as if to hide the shame of searching for something he was all too quick to decide was too stupid to try and find by himself. Extinguishing like that poor pathetic creature, still soaking wet in an empty alleyway because it had nowhere else to go. Cold and curled up as all signs of life vanished and those same spheres went half lidded and lost, having learned absolutely nothing except that no one was ever coming back for you...

_It._

_No more than a metaphor,_  the taller boy derogated, a parable with out piety for people like him who were desperate to explain their own ill-doings without having to take responsibility for them. Easier to lessen the burden if you learned to look past the person and strip them of their personality so that you didn't have to know them. Needy creatures were such unnecessary liabilities, after all. So demanding. Such permanent fixtures. But no longer your problem if you left behind no proof. No collar, no name; no name, no _body._

A concept Kaiba dismissed the second those stupid parallels began forming too personally in the back of his head—that he should have dismissed far sooner—the amphetamine salts singularly obsessed with digging so much deeper through his psyche than they were the analogous little essay of the vessel he tried so hard to project them onto. Pretending they weren't about something  _so much closer_ to the chest. And there they went again, winning him over without his ever realizing, twisting an indirect confession of just how much of himself he really saw in Joey sometimes.  _But he's not a vessel,_  the brunette needlessly corrected, as if the wording weren't his own, knowing deep down he'd never do something like that. To stoop so low as to use the blonde as a surrogate for his own suffering. _That's just cruel,_  he frowned, but only on the inside, the only place he breathed life back into that nightmare.

 _Why would I ever unbury that hell and give it legs to walk around again?_  he thought, feeling his own growing heavy,  _just so it can trample every living, breathing thing in its path and then self-destruct like its all in a day's work?_

Arguing against the single stupid thought that unknowingly tied the two of them together, but drew a sharper, more protective pain in his chest as he shifted his focus back to the other boy, deeply saddened. Nobody deserved to have that kind of pain sealed up inside them.  ** _Especially_** _not Wheeler_ , his eyes wandered, somehow failing to acknowledge that his own reasoning should have included himself by logical default. But, for once, logic was the least of his concerns. Or perhaps that too was just an excuse to avoid the subject matter he'd spent a lifetime trying to depersonalize. However Joey continuously became a different story, something about his age-old adversary that formed a negative correlation, and the more he dismissed himself, the more personal everything about the other became. 

Watching the way in which the color had risen in an isthmus of embarrassment, up from his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, this thin belt of all different shades spreading systematically until the spectrums became clear to the pair of eyes so well versed in such an art, that he felt the sudden urge to wipe all the redness away. Unaware of the focus, but already approaching the epicenter the second these feelings of impending guilt washed over him. Unconcerned about the fault line he'd be stepping on, or which way it would split apart, just the fact he had to get there first. Joey's body had already begun to blindly gravitate, hesitating footfalls that inched forward only far enough to fall back, but it wouldn't take long before he stubbornly threw himself into full speed, Kaiba decided. After all, it was so like him to detonate his own explosion, _such a fool_ , the brunette grinned, _the shockwaves were always meant for me, so for once let me take them._

Unaware that Kaiba, of all people, had anything ulterior up his sleeve, all Joey could do was wait. Opening his eyes long enough to engage the half dead  _Marlboro Menthol_  that had finally ceased to burn going all black and stiff at the tip. Filling his nostrils with that stale, unpleasant stench that half-smoked cigarettes were infamous for, and clicking the wheel of his lighter he'd felt foolish about after finding it in the folded up pair of jeans that had been right next to him, sticking out of the back pocket this whole time.

Restlessly relighting the fowl creation that tasted even worse than it smelled upon the first drag. Setting the uneven ratio of paper into a momentary burst of flames that licked upwards at his face before he'd blown it back to its rightful form, having greedily engulfed the petrified ash and instinctively found its way back to the fresh tobacco buried vulnerably beneath. Savoring that first burst of full flavored chemical cancer to caress his tastebuds, whichever hadn't died from repetitive exposure. Exhaling smooth and steady like the  _Marlboro Man_  plastered on every billboard from here to Japan. Projecting his unsteady stance onto that of significant experience to appear as appealing and refined as he wasn't. 

All the while attributing too much attention detail towards an insignificant process so familiar to smokers that it was practically second nature, and certainly nothing requiring an instructional play by play. But he'd gladly of gone into great detail about every last drag than  _dare_ look at a single feature on the other's face.

So, instead, he waited with eyes clearly avoided, redirecting the contact to a stain on the carpet. A stark contrast of red against the otherwise pristine ivory coloring. Like one big blood splatter that had soaked into the fine silk of an upperclass crime scene. Eternal proof of an internal struggle, a stain that would never come out, having bled so heavily that it could neither be concealed nor washed away. And Joey wondered what could possibly have caused Kaiba to be so careless as to leave behind such condemning evidence. 

The imagery of the other in full, feral loss of control causing an uneasy feeling to sweep over him; and although  _obviously_ Joey knew that it wasn't actually blood that he was looking at, he wasn't, on the other hand, completely convinced he wasn't the next victim. Of some impending outbreak bound to happen sooner or later. His thoughts no longer a comfort. Just a failed attempt to distract from the otherwise foreboding silence flooding the room by leave of their mutual invitation to entertain it. 

Having gone so quiet that even their breathing was no longer audible, and the blonde was struggling to find any semblance of amusement in this parlor trick. This overpowering entity without physical form that somehow had strength enough to both stop and stir all the oxygen that danced down but never back out of their throats. As if they'd swallowed the silence and then the silence had swallowed them. And the feeling was all too hauntingly familiar, adorning the interior like good little sculptures, the sensation of turning to stone.  _Sorcery_ , he shivered, _black magic_. Such things were far from fairytales, both in namesake and proximal distance.

Fairytales were in a land  _far, far away_ —recipes for  _happily-ever-afters_  and well calligraphic, golden inlayed  _the ends_ —but nightmares were the inextricable procreators of each and every seemingly harmless blank space between sweet syllables and chivalrous chapters. Whimsical words and terrifically intricate title pages. The small print of publishing rights and even the alternating blank and opaque slivers of bar code scanners. Neither leather bound, nor format based—confined to kissing frogs or saving damsels that, albeit distressed, never really undressed for their socially inferior savors—but leaping off the pages instead. Twisting through the cracks to create an invisible cage, crisscrossing under the cover of your very eyes and crawling up your fingertips, clawing at your corneas and making you feel crazy.

They had the _ever after_ , but  _happily_ , quite impossible to manage. The same way they all began  _upon a time_ , but  _once_ was even more laughable than the notion of  _happily_. Fear was forever. And he was feeling far too much of it to brush off this ominous feeling seething in an empty space in his chest. The cooling properties of crystallized alcohol and mentholated cigarettes soothing sore throats that were so unused to soundlessness over shouting that their tongues had loosened effortlessly in three days time; but something in the air was growing cold and constricting, as if to symbolize wishes having been spent.

The crude birthmark of scarlet besmirching the carpet, but missing a body. A bad omen if he'd ever seen one. And the nightmare of the  _Never Never Land_ they'd flown to the night before, nothing but make believe. Their faces blank and reflective panes of glass, the silence that slowly sang:  _Mirror, Mirror, short and tall. Who will pull the trigger, and who will be the one to fall?_

Anxious thoughts all twisting together in the warped sensation of forewarning he could not understand having siphoned from scatterbrained, sidetracked seconds of unintelligent thoughts that sought distraction, not direction. These intricacies something more compatibly set to Kaiba's intellectual speed than his own; and yet, the brunette didn't seem to share the gut-wrenching, instinctual calm that only came when accompanied by an immeasurable storm. 

 _Can you really not feel it?_ Like metaphorical bloodlust, it was potent and stifling, and he couldn't conceive how the man who caught everything hadn't caught the scent.  _Or maybe it's just me, maybe I really am going crazy,_ he shook his head.

How the day had gone from great to  _this_ , he'd never know. But it was unbearable and restricting, like being thrown in the pound or purgatory. Or pushed from the precipice of a very real panic attack he could detect beneath his breast. Like the oncoming assault from an opponent when you'd used up all your trap cards, or the instance on the airship when  _The Winged Dragon of Ra_  released its final fury, the chemical reaction was inevitable. It had only been about four minutes since he'd first looked away, another six if you counted all that transpired before that, but Joey felt like the scene had been set to permanent repeat for weeks already. Trapped like a caged animal. Basic biology interjecting in place of theories when faced with the prospect of mortal threat and preemptively thwarted expectations of walking out alive. And there was little and less he could do to prevent the involuntary. 

Narrowing down the necessary neurotransmitters, his brain began emitting endless surges of  _epinephrine_ , accelerating his heart rate like an adrenaline junkie strung out on speed. And the visualization alone was enough to hasten the onset of symptoms, hand creeping towards his chest before veering towards his left arm to ensure it hadn't gone numb. However, trying to settle himself, he ceased the habitually ritualistic motions, knowing they only ever increased the likelihood of full blown manifestation. Forced instead to meet the person he'd been most nervous to face, lighting the same cigarette a second time, or maybe the third, hardly anything there anymore, as he took a heavy drag to mentally prepare before changing his mind. God only knows it'd been jumping subjects like Duke Devlin jumped bones, the simile certainly not one that smiled upon him. Bracing himself irrationally, as if he were going into battle, mind shifting nervously beneath the motions of his cigarette. 

Little did he know, Kaiba had already changed it for him, precisely four minutes and three footsteps ago. So singularly focused and so fucking distracted that, in all that time, he'd failed to see any farther than his own face, let alone the future. The distance having closed long before he'd even thought to brave the space, practically standing chest-to-chest, and quite literally breathing the same air.  Calm, heated spurts colliding in disproportional releases of control and a lack thereof, commingling and so intimidating he thought he might be swallowed. Melting together as broad shoulders brought the battle within centimeters of certain slaughter. But Joey couldn't for the  _life_ of him figure out what the hell Kaiba was smiling for. Anxiety beginning to dissipate amidst the confusion of the brunette's fingers brushing against him, index and middle finger parted just enough to pull the cigarette from between his lips. 

"Y'know," Kaiba casually dragged the commandeered menthol, teasing as he blew a perfect smoke ring against Joey's mouth with a wry, seducing smile, "if you wanted me to hold your hand that badly, you should have just asked."

"As  _if_ ," he snatched back the cigarette, defensively shuffling the brunette away. 

" _Oh_ ," the other sighed, "is that so?" Turning his hand this way and that overhead, assessing the spaces between his fingers as he feigned despondency with that suave, sheer lack of effort that suited him so well. "And all this time I really thought I was onto something."

"Yeah, your  _ego_  maybe," Joey intervened, head snapping from full view. Blushing, breathless, and buried beneath the pressure of previous avoidance building in his throat. " _Seriously_ , dude, get over yourself," he shook his head, sucking harshly on the nearly shapeless cylinder, "I mean why would you even..."

Kaiba's pointer finger interjected, "Uh, that's all filter, by the way."

"I  _KNOW_ THAT," Joey shouted, throwing it to the ground without thinking, adding arson to the list of crimes against the carpet. "What I  _DON'T_  get is why you'd  _possibly_  think that, let alone  _ASK_ ," he fumed. " **AND** with a straight face to boot!"

Bending down to retrieve the partially burning butt from the floor, lips pursed in slight displeasure before straightening out and brushing off his pants, "And what kind of face  _should_  I have worn then?" he asked amusedly. 

"Oh, _I don't know_ ," the blonde gestured sarcastically with both hands. Head tilted to the side. "Maybe cold, detached asshole who'd never ask in the  _first_ place, or superiority-complex-CEO, who couldn't be  _bothered_  to ask such stupid questions!" Voice escalating with each additional insult he didn't realize were taken too far out of context. "OH," he exclaimed, fist hitting his open palm, "what about  _dismissive-don't-give-a-shit-if-you-die-duelist?_ Haven't seen  ** _him_** in awhile. And I  **know** he wouldn't ask something like that. Not even over his dead, day ripe corpse of a  _body_."

" _Wow_ ," widening blue eyes stared back bewilderedly, hands colliding in a genuinely startled sort of slow clap, "Impressive, you've certainly put a lot of thought into this, haven't you," he stated. "To be honest, I'm flattered," both of them now formfitting against his hips in thought, "this is  _fa-r_ more serious than I first suspected."

" _Wha_...no...you don't.. _.that's now what I meant, okay_ ," Joey emphasized angrily, "stop being such an asshole, Kaiba," sputtering directionless and out of breath, doubly offset by how calmly the other had absorbed the far from unspecific slights that even  _he'd_ regretted the minute his mouth stopped moving. 

"Then what exactly  _did_ you mean? Please, do tell."

"I can't mean  _anything_ until you answer my question."

"You never asked me a question."

"Ah—" Joey's mouth stopped mid-motion, eyes staring overhead as if to scroll back through the conversation. "Yeah, no, because..."

Kaiba interjected like he'd been reading his thoughts. "You told me you didn't understand  _what_ made me think that or  _why_  I'd even ask. But those were statements. Not questions. _Punctuation_. Big difference."

" _Ugh_ ," fingers furrowed through blonde hair, "No, no,  _wait_ , that's  **only** cause you cut me off right before that," he rebutted, "right before I told you to get over yourself, I said..."

"Oh, you meant _that_ ," the brunette nodded, "You said,  _and I quote_ ," he cleared his throat, "'I mean why would you even...'"

" _EXACTLY!_  Cause,  **y'know** , usually stringing the words  _'why would you'_ together, implies that I'm trying to ask  _WHY WOULD YOU_ , do something!"

 _"Yeahhh,"_ Kaiba folded his face in thought, "but 'why would you even' isn't a question either, its a fragment. An  _incomplete_ fragment. And fragments aren't sentences. And sentences have punctuation. So, no punctuation, means no question."

Beginning to roll up his sleeves, Joey's face was a whole new shade of red, "I swear to god, I'm  _literally_ about to kill you," he approached the brunette with a crazed look, cracking his knuckles.

Sighing dramatically, Kaiba surrendered with a simple gesture. "Fine, fine,  _go ahead,_  ask again.  _Or to begin_ _with_ ," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" Joey cupped his hand to the side of his head and leaned forward.

"All ears," Kaiba smiled wide and smart-assedly.

Pausing momentarily, Joey waited to make sure there were no tricks involved this time, shuffling his feet, slightly shyly, embarrassed by how many times he was forced to vocalize it. "I wanted to know, why you would even ask that, and after everything else, why you'd  _ever_ think that," he concluded, purposely omitting choice words like  _wanted_ and  _so badly_. "Oh, wait," he rose a condescending finger, "insert question mark. _Punctuation_. Happy?"

"Very," Kaiba nodded, lips upturning, simply shrugging. "That's easy, though," he grinned, handsome features encircling him with an increasingly devilish charm, "you were only  _staring_ from the second I let go. So, _naturally_ , I assumed that it was possible you didn't actually want me to stop."

Such an honest answer threw Joey off balance, a more innocent color creeping into his features because it was the truth. "Well, of course I stared, I mean, you  ** _held_**   _my_   ** _hand_** ," he emphasized, "and then wouldn't let it go!"

"Well, obviously," brows began to furrow, "you were trying to steal my  _lighter_ ," the brunette stressed, "it's my  ** _favorite_  **lighter," dead serious, "so, drastic times..."

"Call for handholding?" Joey finished for him.

"Wrist grip," Kaiba corrected.

"And, so, the second time was, what? Joint prayer hands?"

" _Hmm_ , I was going to say  _cupping_ , but I like yours way better."

"How sanctimonious of you," Joey rolled his eyes, growing suddenly sick of this run around. Such a pitiful excuse for a conversation that left him both embarrassed and completely in conflict with the very real emotional shifting that was now the butt of a running joke, and one that he wasn't finding very funny. 

Quite the opposite, discouraged by the fact the jests weren't technically too far from the truth, not that he'd ever admit that aloud, not willingly at least, not when he wasn't entirely sure what any of it really meant.  _If_ it meant. I mean, it wasn't like a romantic pining, _certainly not the way Seto felt compelled to exaggerate, at least_. But, at the same time, if that were entirely true, then why was he getting upset when he knew he should be laughing? Shutting down and sulking when he should be happy the other was opening up the way he'd wanted him to? The whole objective in the first place, and the fact it was going even better than he never thought could happen throwing a wicked curve, or a double-edged sword, he didn't know. He'd never been good with phrases. They tended to turn into paragraphs that branched out in all directions like limbs on a tree that's trunk had caved in.

 _Maybe I'm just angry for ruining our earlier conversation,_  eyes rewinding to the first and only time anything substantial had been submitted and acknowledged in conversation between them. Well, maybe not the  _first_ and  _only_ , but the first and only thing that important. That  _personal_. That perfect opportunity I completely botched.  _I mean, we're talking about his name, his_ ** _real_** _name, something no one else besides Mokuba knows, that he decided to tell_ ** _me._** _ME. Of_ ** _ALL_** _people. Out of aaanyyyyone else in the entiiiire world,_  Joey sighed. Deep and dejectedly.  _And what did_ ** _I_** _do? Shut down the whole conversation because_ ** _clearly_** _I can dish out a hell of a lot more than I can take._

Turns out he was right, _I am an_ ** _idiot_** _._  Unexpectedly interrupted by the repetitive jabbing of a fresh cigarette against his face, Joey looked up to where Kaiba was incessantly trying to get his attention. Persisting until the blonde's face went flat, obediently opening his mouth so the other could complete his peace offering, sliding the cigarette between the gap on the right side.

"If you think a  _cigarette_ is going to be enough to make of for all  _this_ ," Joey gestured in a circular motion, as if to emphasize something so much more colossal, "then you  _really_ suck at reading people."

"C'mon," Kaiba ignored him, taking his hand, "let's go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yeah, that's what you're supposed to do with dogs, right?"

"Shut up," Joey tried to suppress the surfacing grin.

"Let's go," the brunette tipped his head towards the door.

"But...these _clothes_ ," he stared.

"—look good on you," Kaiba finished for him, waving away such unnecessary, self-conscious notions.

" _Good!?_ More like _Good_ **god _,_** _look-who-just-got-loose-from-the-homeless-shelter!"_  he flailed about.

"I'll have you know you're wearing at least seven hundred dollars, don't insult me."

" _Se...seven hundred dollars,_ " Joey pulled out the ill-fitting items, "you spent  **seven hundred dollars** on  _two_ articles of clothing!? That's more than my entire  _wardrobe!_ "

"And the belt makes three," the brunette extended his arm, smacking the sensitive stomach muscles that hadn't been braced for impact, deflating as the blonde folded over slightly.

Half due to the wince of pain, half due to the fact the range of contact came unfathomably close to his hips. Eyes having gone wider once he'd drawn his final conclusion. _"You're crazy!"_ he exclaimed, pertaining to both the prices and the posturing, " _batshit_ crazy."

"And you're confused," the elder sighed, "when I said _let's go for a walk,_  it was a command, not a request," he looked back, smiling almost cruelly. _Adderall_  effortlessly accelerating his capacity for immature, come-hither banter. "Punctuation, remember? Now let's go already."

"How much  _more_ did you drink while I was changing?"

"Drink?" he thought amusedly to his prescription, "only a sip,"  _of instant release._  "But we'll have plenty of time for that when we get back."

Staring upward, the smaller boy's features pleaded helplessly with some higher power, _"He's trying to kill me."_

"You'd be dead already. Now quit stalling. And don't make me say it again."

"Yeah,  _yeah_ ," Joey grumbled, "Walk. We're Going. No Free Will. I get it,  _I get it_."

**⇣❖⇡**

Self-consciously glancing around, back and forth, Joey lifted their conjoined hands that the other hadn't shown any sign of disconnecting as he dragged the blonde out the door, down the stairs, and along the narrow, winding pathway enshrouded in an awning of molting treetops. "Is this really necessary?" he asked once again, hands elevated in obvious inference.

"Why? Are you seriously that shy?"

"It's not a question of  _shyness_ ," Joey rationalized. "It's just...it's weird."

"How come?"

"I don't know  _Socrates_ ," the blonde shot him a look, "why don't  _you_ try answering this one."

Seto grinned, "You're embarrassed."

"Of  _course_ I'm embarrassed, you're  _holding_ **_my_**   ** _hand_** ," he stressed.

"And last night I slept in your bed."

Joey felt his heart pound, spinning around, " _Shh_ ," he hissed, pressing his hand firmly over Kaiba's mouth. 

" _Whh-t,_ " the brunette spoke against him.

Shaking his head, Joey's hand retracted, "Just keep your voice down, would you?"

Instead, he began shouting.

"HEY,  **EVERYONE** , GET THIS. LAST NIGHT, I SLEPT..."

All the color drained from the smaller boy's face, frantically failing his second attempt to silence the other as Seto sped up into a sprint, using his free hand to ward off Joey's clasp of death.

"...IN THE  _SAME_ _BED_..."

"Shut _UP_ ," Joey pleaded.

"...RIGHT NEXT TO  ** _THIS_  **GUY!"

" _SETO!_ " the other exclaimed, in an almost parental reprimand.

" _See_ , look," Kaiba concluded, "nobody cares."

"My,  _my_ , well don't  _you two_ make a cute couple."

Both boys fell into a deep, deadlocked silence, however, as a third voice chimed in.

"Seriously, you guys are totally cute," Sam appeared out of nowhere. "I really had no idea you'd gotten so  _close_ , sleeping together already? You sure do move fast, Japan, that's less than  _24_ hours," she grinned mischievously towards Joey. "But whatever, I  _totally_ called it."

And this time, even Kaiba took on the slightest color.

" _Well_ , she  ** _did_** call it," he agreed uncooperatively, sending Joey into a fit.

" _Heh_ , no, you've got it all wrong," he tried to protest, but Sam simply pulled her thumb and forefinger across her lips. 

"Don't worry," she winked, "I can keep a secret."

Joey's features fell along with his entire upper body, which had gone concave and slumped forward, elbowing the brunette harshly between the ribs, "Nice  _going_ , big mouth," he mumbled accusatorially, finally breaking free from the other's grip, "just look at the mess you've made  _now_."

"Maybe," Kaiba nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

"Why'd ya have to do this to me," the blonde groaned loudly. 

Leaning over until his face aligned momentarily alongside Joey's, Kaiba whispered quietly, "Well, you're not anxious anymore, are you?"

Earning him an immediate and authentic gleam from the younger duelist, expression caught somewhere between awe and understanding, all the other's motives falling more clearly into place. Smiling softly to himself,  _he was just trying to take my mind off everything,_ he shook his head, feeling stupid but grateful, and just a little too smitten. Sighing as he stole another side glance at the brunette, who now walked side-by-side but separately from him.  _Seriously, why weren't you always like this?_

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, christ, can you believe that THIS is the chapter that had me hung up for almost three years trying to finish? Hah, I'd had like, the dialogue at the start of it written, and then some, like a fairly significant portion, but my fxcking computer crashed, or shut down, or maybe it was one of the ones that broke, but either way, after looking EVERYWHERE, through extracted hard drives, autosaves, I couldn't find it fxcking ANYWHERE, OR remember what I'd written, and so it became a discouragement battle of, "well, fuck this," since I couldn't remember the direction I was taking it in anymore, and overly optimistic, "but one of these days, SURELY, I'll find it!" Thank god I got bored one day out of nowhere and just started spewing, haha although, my bad, that's probably half the reason for the wordiness here. ANYWAYS. That was all pointless, nonsense fun facts. I'll post chapter sixteen within the hour.


	16. Revery Of A Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (/ ∇＼*)｡o○♡ teehee.

* * *

**_._ ●•** **۰** **•** ∁ **Ͱ** **ಇ** ꟼ **ł** ⏙ **Ʀ** **❰❬⓰** **❭❱ẟ** ꟾ✘⟂ **⁅ǝ** **ƞ** **•** **۰** **•●.  
****  
****_Revery Of A Riptide  
_**

* * *

_"Holy_ **money** ," Sam exclaimed upon their arrival, eyes scanning the dimensions of the prime lakefront real estate, and marveling at the things very few had the luxury to afford.

"Not really," Kaiba deflected immediately, but all the while maintaining a healthy and convincing aloofness. "The apartment came furnished, so most of this stuff isn't mine, per say," he continued, running one hand delicately and distractedly over the body of his piano, "I really only splurged on one thing."

She nodded, not buying it for a second, "Last time I checked, _blue-gold_ , Steinway grand pianos with _ivory_ keys go for a tad bit too many zeros to tally up to that of _casual_ 'splurging'."

To which he shrugged, "I'm in the family business," then a slight refrain, "anyways, that's where the bulk of my ' _resources'_ come from," he skillfully avoided the direct mention of money. "It's not like I did anything special to get it."

"Yeah right," the blonde spoke reflexively without thought, "Don't listen to a word he says, Sam." Absolutely beside himself with the smile so special, he hadn't the time to register how shy and to himself he was speaking anymore. "He's _amazing."_

She cocked her head with girlish curiosity, that blank subtle way of prying beneath the surface without making a sound while Kaiba too shied away, retracting his hand from one of his most personal treasures to conceal them completely; and now it was Joey cocking his head, his features, however, far less ambiguous.

"An _amazingly_ functional alcoholic," the brunette redirected without traces of wit or retort, just this grinning so wide beneath the impalpable restraint that he'd had to close his eyes—this uninterpretable combination of absentee emotion, both genuine and equivocally pained—quickly gesturing and ushering Sam towards the admittedly superior selection of spirits adorning the countertop.

The liquid Joey'd been inwardly pining for all day long; but even the very prospect alcohol held for him was scarce in comparison to the undiluted concentration he required, and was by no means anywhere near enough to satiate him. _Or_ his gazing. Anxieties and attitudes fighting for an unmitigated sort of absolution he found only within the same organically sentimental compounds creating the inconsonance in his chest. Talk was cheap and mouths were made for swallowing, chewing things up and spitting them back out, but seeing was believing, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Such prying eyes pouring shots of the now, for no discernible reason, shyer individual standing across from him. Hands retreating at every opportunity, folded and clasped behind his back or sinking into pants pockets, this unusual sense of avoidance for Kaiba to show so earnestly. Dare, he say, maybe even a little nervously? As if the attention to his esteemed person was suddenly unfamiliar and awkward to be on the receiving end of, never one to downplay his socioeconomic status, that's for sure.

And even less like the brunette to deflect direct compliments, regardless of Joey's praise worthy admission resulting from nothing more than a freudian slip, the other was by no means the type of person quick to reject an explicit stroke to his ego. However, like an old party balloon—those things he apparently hated—it too had deflated. Not quite so full of himself for the time being, but genuinely trying to fit, to blend in with the surroundings without standing out so damn much.

Otherwise expertly instigated eye contact now altering off course, shifty and uncertain; the faintest squiggle of what seemed to be a smile struggling to remain a stationary line, occasionally slipping sidetracked—or perhaps furtive—glances in Joey's general direction. Presumption on his part an ever present possibility, but six of one, half dozen of another, and presumably possible nonetheless. _Give me an inch_ , he thought, only point fifty-four centimeters short and decreasing steadily with his breathing, _and I'll happily take the whole mile._

A bold statement, even if only made to himself, and Joey couldn't help but savor the audacity augmenting the air of initiative. The imaginative leap emanating like a lure, the subtle nips baiting beneath the surface of brown eyes, flashes of emerald and garnet scintillating, both distracting and distracted as he felt an opposing pair pulling under. The invisible length of the fine line between them growing taught, superior optics sinking under the equally unknown depth. Catching Kaiba's acquiescing, transfixing irises reconnecting for a fraction of a second before abandoning the advance towards such an obvious trap, too instinctual to ignore the evolutionarily fortified cautiousness causing him to look away.

The internal awareness of centimeters giving way. He was that much closer. And that's all Joey cared about. The other boy's hesitance only topping off the overflowing amount of detail the blonde was drinking in—alcohol having become so inconsequential and tasteless now that he was getting drunk off something far more potent. Pooling his gaze, hazel coloring so content and offset and lost in the mirror image of such an involuntary smile and school boyish stance. His own hands wringing or readying too eagerly towards reclining or reaching out to touch something that almost didn't seem real anymore.

Too compelled by his own carelessness and curiosities, stuffing them into shallow pockets, those fidgety hands of his, as if to keep his whole body from swaying, the polarity and magnetism suddenly becoming all a bit much for the blonde. _"...He is beyond gorgeous,"_ he recalled Sam proclaiming in the days prior. Himself having submitted something similar in passing while the other had still been sleeping and so close to him. When he'd reached down to retrieve his cigarettes, upper body lowering and back tastefully exposed. When they'd gotten dressed earlier that afternoon, the careful and delicate deconstruction of Kaiba's features from the head down to where he shouldn't have kept going...

Watching as every time he thought he'd seen it all, an entire four new layers fell away and something even more mesmerizing emerged. Realizing quite clearly, quite certainly and shifting in his chest, that it wasn't mutually exclusive to the brunette's simplest form, but equally prepossessing in every state. Alluring even when angry and evil in the eyes, standing on opposing sides; twice as compelling when he was walking away, completely ignoring him, consecrating the chase.

When he was annoyed, or asleep, or so clearly above and beyond the mediocrity; when he was evolving or imploding or on the verge of becoming human; even when it was nothing more than a feint, a fictitious, viciously manipulating fabrication, the blonde went down hook line and sinker all the more facilely. Equally effortless, it wasn't exactly an impulsiveness that could be easily downplayed or rightfully dismissed when it continued to appear in identical patterns; the same way it wasn't exactly so outrageous a parallel as to go as far as to deny or write off as pure coincidence or overcompensation for lack of better ways to phrase. 

After all, it only made sense that there was some underlying reason that had always made them so magnetic—spellbound—the desire to be drawn over and _over_ again into situations so barren. Into this dedicated rivalry that had never rivaled anything except for their shared stamina to endure the tumultuous collisions, the metaphorical taste of blood; having only ever been loyal to the increasing desirability of getting close enough to set the other off. An excuse to push the buttons, to justify walking back away with a chest so tense that he'd been both sickened and singularly obsessed with it. With or without his realizing.

 _Jesus Christ, what kind of masochistic fuck_ ** _am_** _I?_ Joey groaned inwardly at the idea, thinking back to the more than just borderline fucked up situations he'd thrown his body the _fuck_ into, simply the for the sake of the opposing one it got to go up against. That last bit of phrasing far more sexual now that he'd said it aloud in his own head; his eyes widening, _holy shit, masochistic fuck, masochistic_ **** _fuck_ , he repeated frantically, mental processes spewing in the absence of engaging the others, chancing to meet those eyes that said everything, but had somehow lost the interest for.

They sure as hell weren't in Japan anymore, that was for sure, Joey concluded, breathing steadily in through his nose as he accumulated the air in his chest like an intermediate pause, exhaling in a constance of exhaustion and incredulity. But as past and presence overlapped in a prismatic pane of glass, he couldn't help but admit that he was merely forcing all this offsetting bullshit on himself because he wasn't man enough to admit the internal shifting that was shaking his whole solar plexus so much more severely than before. Intensifying incrementally by the hour, the sensations from this morning mere child's play by contrast. Such softer undertones unsteadying, asphyxiating, so much more infectious than he'd pre-established. The opposition of opposition that part of him had clearly been attracted to, in one way or the other, for years.

It was embarrassing. The way he sat fretting like this, the way his emotions had all fallen out of whack, the way Kaiba made him want to rip off all the remaining layers, all these new expressions driving him up the wall, so conflicted with which this would all end with. Like picking petals from a flower and hoping you hadn't fucked up whatever _is_ or _isn't_ , _does_ or _doesn't_ you'd started with, secretly trying to calculate how to fix the outcome.

A preemptive admission he was in deep, deeper than deep, anxiety spiraling like F5 within his chest, cycling and spinning uncontrollably as his insides rearranged at the mercy of mother nature. Cold fronts sweeping beneath the warm, intermixing, the creation of pure chaos.

Joey shook his head in partial self disdain. He solely blamed Seto for this fit, for this entire day. For the way he had to melt out of body the minute his fingers caressed piano keys—the transfixing pressure and unfamiliar weight of his hand when it was pressed to his chest—the entire fact it upset him knowing it was all incidental. For never _once_ caring, then going out and showing him the greatest time, the confusion that they weren't really friends, Joey frowned. How that was somehow more painful than blindly hating one another's existences from afar. The absentee pressure between his fingertips still tingling and fidgeting to fill the empty spaces. The fact he hadn't felt this way since...that he'd never _wanted_ to feel this way again after...

_Sigh._

...how much more _real_ the fact he was fighting it so hard made it all, this sinking feeling in his chest. His body and his brain riding the same wave but reacting on such drastically different lengths. Mentally transcribing every aspect of the brunette, anxiousness becoming obsessive, selective; the sensation thriving in his breast, palpitating between two distinct and undeniable syllables that sure as hell weren't the _Lub-Dub_ they'd been taught in science class. 

The refined delicacy, the ridiculous physique—that manipulative son of a bitch—the way he'd become so approachable then retracted, how he'd masterfully caught Joey off guard at every turn. One minute so genuinely precious, the frustration that came with the social obliviousness whenever Kaiba attempted to act 'normally'. The personal sentiments he'd been showing luring Joey into a false sense of security, then stealing all the oxygen from the room the next with these bold, unhindered statements.

Such lewd wisecracks made under the weight of such serious eyes. The sobriety deepening in his face when the other two had begun to stare, their psychic, psychoanalytical powers syncing up in a tag team against him from across the small kitchen enclosure, as if to provoke the concession; **_whatever,_** _so it's_ _true_ , he scowled, _I think he's beautiful_ , resistance and organic thoughts giving way to the reality around him, _so, there it is, I said it_ , Joey tipped back the glass. _He's fucking_ ** _breathtaking._**

“ _So, just stay this amazing_ ," the blonde said aloud in a frantic, pressurized lack of awareness that he'd accidentally flip-flopped his internal and external trains of thought, Sam having preemptively drifted momentarily ago, and Seto stopping dead in his tracks, such a dumbfounded look on his face as their eyes met, his glass just freshly leaving his lips when Joey's collided against it in a spontaneous sort of toasting.

"J-just...keep...keep up the good work," a rushed, reflexive attempt to recover that failed miserably sinking into the elixir he wished had been stronger.

"Uh, _thanks_ coach," Kaiba replied awkwardly.

"Shut up, let's get wasted."

Too much mischief rose into the other's eyes.

"You keep that to yourself," he took executive action, "give me a role-playing answer instead of a drink and I'll kick your ass."

Kaiba inhaled mid-delivery, _"Neeevermind_ then," he turned to his fixture of elixirs and god knows how many percentages and proofs, _"_ Ah- _here_ it is," he reached back farther, then pulled a large, queer shaped bottle, "Some _1800_ to please the princess," he grinned.

Joey slapped him open hand across the face, and hard.

" _Ouu-_ **chh** ," Kaiba feigned, hand covering the space with a wink, "I thought you said no role playing."

"I thought I said pour me a shot."

"So initiating all of a sudden," Kaiba remarked, nodding, "I like it,"—busy somewhere off to the side, "And did you want that above..."

"Say below the belt, Seto, and I'll rip your throat out."

This time, the brunette's head turned bewilderedly, expression caught between whether to be offended, disturbed, or so incredibly proud. "Well," he recomposed, shrugging it off with an overly flamboyant downplay, "only cause you used my name that time."

 _"Yeah,_ that's right," Joey slammed the shot, "I'm wearing _your_ pants today so don't fu.. _cking listen to anything that just came out of my mouth just now_ ," he quickly lost emphasis, rushing through the rest with a keep'em'coming wave of the hand, "Another."

"Ah, it's alright, they're powerful, I know," Kaiba leisurely poured several for the both of them, "Seto and the Traveling Pants they call us," he spoke with the eloquence of an old time barkeep. "Out on an epic journey of friendship and self discovery."

Joey snorted, suppressed laugher displacing the surface of tequila and sending it spilling upward against his face, " _Dick,_ " he dragged his sleeve hastily across his mouth, but refused to inhabit the subservient role, sliding the shot glass along the table with surprising accuracy. "Here, I think you need this more than me," he remarked cooly, staring down at where these so called pants had landed, "it seems your GPS took _quite_ an improper turn."

Cobalt irises paused to look him over, contemplatively traveling down the length of the other's figure, cocking his head to the side with a deepening sigh, "You're right, the final destination was clearly _your_ pants _,"_ he took his shot, "but what are you gonna do? They've got a mind of their own, those things."

 _"Mfgh-wht-dyo,_ " Joey struggled between the shot and shades that rose as rapidly as his fist.

"Hey, where'd Sam go?" Kaiba turned and ducked without effort, slinking away before throwing back a self satisfied smirk.

_That manipulative son of a bitch._

❰❬✘❭❱

"I bet all the girls go crazy over this," Sam continued to pace freely about the space, head tilted in continuous awe, "you're seriously straight out of a _CW_ show.”

"Actually," Joey spoke up, after releasing an unintentional snort, fingers having gotten mighty friendly with the drinks he'd been poured, tongue loose enough that he was indulging information without ill intention, or perhaps just too much purpose, "our dear Kaiba-boy here is actually—“

" _Celibate,_ " Kaiba played off in perfect character, hands rising from his knees as if finally, he'd worked up the courage to admit something controversial, "I'm studying to become a priest.”

"Don't even _joke_ about that," Sam plopped down onto the love-seat with her drink in hand, taking a hard sip, " _God_ , what a waste that would be.”

"Yeah, he takes his vows pretty soon too," Joey pretended like he hadn't heard, "so you'd better behave yourself," he tipped his glass towards the sofa they were now sharing. His attempt to wedge between the memory of their effortless chumminess thwarted and turned against him, resorting to a level far more childish, relieved his _Girlfriend's Confidential_ get-back-bitch-stare had fit the context. Appearing more drunkenly playful than entirely authentic.

Sam laughed. "I've gotta start going to church," she stated, both arms hanging over the back of the couch, "Seriously, if I got to look at _that_ pretty mug for an hour, hour and half, two to three times a week, then hell, I'd go _religiously._ ”

However Kaiba was staring, singular brow risen, "Yeah, you're still coming to the ceremony, right _Joseph?”_

Joey simply pulled the glass to his lips with a self satisfied smile.

"Seriously, better enjoy him while you can, Japan," she winked, "don't worry, I won't get in your way. By all means," Sam gestured to the space, "those are some pretty hungry eyes you've got over there, so go ahead, _ravish away_.”

To this, Seto spit a full mouth of Scotch back into his glass, so abruptly he began to choke, coughing and waving his hand, " _Safe word!_ " he repeated several times, upper body still tilted forward into his fist to suppress the fit; Joey having gone bright red the second he'd heard the words "hungry eyes" leave Sam's mouth, no room for deflecting when he could practically feel the heat. 

"You ought to be more careful how you're caught looking at people," she egged him on mercilessly.

And he only wished he'd had a pillow to chuck across the room. "Yeah, and how's about you watch the words that come out your mouth.”

 _"Rrreow,"_ she swatted pretend cat claws, "My, _my_ , you're a jealous one.”

Sensing the one sided tension growing more _tense_ , Kaiba interjected. "Alright, alright, that's enough, we all know I'm not gonna be a priest," he paused, almost laughing, so uncharacteristically casual of him, "and besides, if _anyone's_ going to be doing any ravishing around here, it's going to be _me_ ," his expression sharpened, eyes so suggestively ambiguous that Joey immediately reverted back to prior suspicions over this so called 'in tact virginity' business.

There was just no way, it was impossible. _To begin with and_ ** _especially_** _now._ You didn't get this good without practice. The way how even his body language had shifted in sync, one arm now bent, elbow resting on the back of the love seat, fingers fanned curiously close but not quite pressed to his face; back melting so that his pelvis pushed forward, legs spread casually, and tousled hair pushed this way and that. Brown tips swept over blue eyes that remained unmoving while his free hand pulled out a fresh pack, single cigarette balanced and drawn, lighting it so smoothly this was like a goddamn movie.

 _All that's missing is the suit_ —but his mind corrected that right away, playing online dress up games with Kaiba in his head.

"I wish he meant me," Sam leaned back, pretending to fan herself, no doubt not too far from doing exactly what he was thinking over so thoroughly—although _undressing_ him as opposed to cosplay-costuming him was a _vastly_ different extreme.

 _Goddamn, I really am from Japan,_ he shook his head, eyes narrowing before rising, extracting the humor from his thoughts as the means to disguise and diffuse this totally fucked—not to mention completely inappropriate—shift in behavior. "If only you were a little boy instead," he posed, sarcastic sincerity floating through the air, "that's more the priestly speed than what you've got underneath.”

"That's gross," Kaiba grimaced. "Worse that you look _pleased_ about it," demurely flirtatious now, "sounds like somebody's in desperate need of _confession._ ”

"Don't deflect your perversions onto me," Joey stuck up his nose, neck rolling and face falling on the brunette's at a devious angle, "but, guess it can't be helped, I mean, when a person chooses to be abstinent for so long…”

"Are you speaking of standards?" the other retorted. "Yeah, I think having them is important, although it's clear you _avidly_ disagree. Just how many Hale Mary's you think you're gonna need to erase _that_ type of history?”

" _Ohh,_ " Sam seemed to overflow on the inside, covering her mouth with one hand, "and jealousy just became a _two-_ way street.”

" _Hah,_ " the brunette murdered any ounce of accuracy, "nobody gets jealous over a product that's already _used._ ”

" _I'm going to get another drink,_ " Joey mumbled, feet pivoting fully before letting his face engage the ground, frown lines creasing, unimaginably hurt. 

 _I guess I hit a nerve_. But Kaiba always hit them so much harder. He'd gotten his mile alright, five thousand and eighty feet in the wrong direction.

Was the previous night repeating? Or was it simply too much for the brunette to mediate two nights in a row in order to relieve his discomfort between the trio's dynamic? If the awkward tension lasted, that meant the end result, the best part, would never come to fruition, didn't it? So was that the objective the other wished to avoid, or simply a task he felt he was under no obligation to complete; or was he himself just thrusting too much responsibility over the outcome of his feelings onto Kaiba? Being too sensitive, too incapable of keeping up with these levels of intelligence that far exceeded his own, making him feel anxious and so totally out of their league…

"Hey, _sulking sally_ ," another empty glass slid across the countertop, "pouring drinks is a job for the host, but top me off while you're at it," the brunette leaned against the breakfast bar with both arms, tipping his head back, "and don't go spilling all my secrets and I won't go attacking yours," he slipped in, in such a Seto Kaiba way, lacking all remorse. "It'd be a real shame for me to start regretting having told you them now," he reached over to retrieve the replenished glass, "and easy on the heavy stuff, you've been outpacing yourself all night," then turned his back. "If whatever you've got on your mind's so awful, call it a night, but don't take it out on me.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving Joey to slump against the countertop with his elbows propping what little of himself he could lift up, ignoring the return of the Seto Kaiba he'd been stupid to think had truly disappeared, leisurely pouring a steady, prolonged stream of liquor down his throat despite the warning he was genetically predisposed to overlooking. _And I was stupid enough to think you were amazing too_ , Joey felt it hit his stomach, all heavy and numbing, _guess you were right the first time, you really_ ** _can't_** _teach an old dog new tricks._

"Hey you," Sam raised her voice, "with the face.”

Joey craned his neck, " _Me_ with the face?" he asked, "Don't you think you're talking in the wrong direction?”

"Oh, you _both_ have the face," she dismissed, all worked up and irritated, "now stop being such a spoilsport and get back here!”

"Honestly," Kaiba raised his glass in tandem, "you know it's _pretty awkward_ with you only sitting a whole four feet away and all, stop acting like we _disqualified_ you.”

Joey, however, was less reassured how to respond to the brunette than Sam, his previous statement still relatively fresh, and much too personal to pretend like it was nothing.

"I've got _weeeeed_ ," Sam chorused persuasively, dangling the zip-lock bag overhead

"Fine," the blonde grumbled, snatching his drink and slinking back over, "but only because there's weed.”

"Is _that_ all it takes to get your attention?" Kaiba asked implicatively, face tilted against the support of his fist, elbow angled against the armrest, "wish someone would've told me sooner.”

Joey's face furrowed, eyebrows slanting up into one another, "is _that_ all it takes to change _your_ mood back to agreeable?" he countered, exchanging the original format, "wish someone would've saved me the _stress_.”

"Awe," Sam cooed, somewhere between the breaking up and packing of the greenery, "is that what you were pouting about?”

"I wasn't _pouting_ ," he dismissed.

"He was pouting," Kaiba interjected.

"Was not!”

"Were too.”

"I hate you.”

"Hate you more," Kaiba winked.

"You two are. fucking. _adorable,_ " Sam interrupted.

"Absolute _nonsense_ ," the brunette reached for the bowl, "we are both extraordinarily masculine and defined individuals!”

"I already _told_ you, _it's not like that_!" Joey overlapped the other.

"Rewind and repeat," Sam nodded, tossing the lighter, " **fucking _adorable_.** ”

Sighing in defeat, he shook his head, "I guess we're fucking adorable then," the blonde submitted, reaching out for the device.

"Not until you say it sincerely," Kaiba retracted upon the collision of their hands.

"But you didn't even _agree_ ten seconds ago!”

The other turning defiantly, speaking with the intonation of a six-year-old, "I changed my mind.”

"You're too flippant," Joey shook his head.

"And you're too fixed.”

"And you _both_ need to run away together and elope already," Sam stretched back, "how many more ways can I think to say it?”

Hazel eyes shot sideways, "that's enough out of you missy, keep your thoughts to yourself.”

She grinned, "like you keep your eyes to yours?”

" _Treeaaated_ ," Kaiba chorused, sinking back into his second hit, weed diffusing with the alcohol they hadn't stopped drinking all day, medication intermixing indiscernibly.

"Hey, gimmy that," Joey lunged forward, colliding with the couch when the brunette maneuvered up and out of the way.

He bent over, face hovering amusedly over the other boy, "not until you admit we're adorable.”

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Joey asked, pushing him away, getting to his feet.

"Well that was _rude_ ," Sam scolded offhandedly.

" _Yeah_ ," Kaiba agreed, " _real_ uncool, Joey.”

"You're the only one being _uncool_ ," the blonde employed critically, reaching for the bowl, only to be denied again, finally getting a hold on it, just to find the brunette taking advantage.

"Just say it," he pulled Joey forward, the blonde inching backward to avoid his face, "pretty please?”

“Seriously, though,” his body strained to stay at a safe enough distance, "would somebody _please_ tell me where the hell Kaiba is, and who this imposter is in his stead?”

"Fancy words," the brunette observed with an austere drop in demeanor, sidestepping and nudging the other behind the knee, causing him to lose balance, "I liked you better when you were _worthy_ of the pants you're wearing.”

"Lost. SO lost," the redhead echoed, "will one of you just pass the damn bowl already?”

" _Jesus_ ," Joey faltered forward, fumbling, then recomposing himself, throwing a backwards glance, " _we're adorable_ , happy?”

And he swore Kaiba smiled simply at the fact he got his way in the end, not with the actual words that had been spoken, just the corroborating evidence that he could bend the other to his will.

"He's happy, you're happy," Sam continued to divvy in dismissive sing-song, "some of us would like to be high…”

"Of course!" the taller boy pulled back, skipping over Joey to hand the bowl off to Sam, "I almost forgot, sorry about that.”

Inhaling on the verge of collapse, Joey allowed his body literally to do so, downwardly plopping back into the armchair with a deepening sigh.

"He's—pouting again," she observed between the inhalation and holding in of a hit.

He exhaled hopelessly, "definitely pouting again.”

"Not so adorable anymore," Joey glanced up with a funny grin, "is it?”

Only expanding the upward angle in the other boy's smile, "Well played.”

"And your reward," Sam stood up, doubling over with a bow.

"FINALLY," Joey's fingers reached out and claimed his spot in the rotation, allowing their mindsets to sync up on similar levels as the smoke thickened throughout the room.

Exchanging _THC_ for _Menthol_ for more alcohol—smiles for exchanges for subtle hints and losses of subtlety—changes in subject matter for alcohol for _menthol_ for more _THC_ , and around and around they went. Until the mood that had set the initial tone was all but forgotten and Joey was sitting somewhere on the ground by Kaiba's feet, head rolled back, staring upward with an irrepressible smile, and the brunette shook his own, eyes closed and trying not to mirror the expansion. Offset and absorbed on equal fronts with the other's drunkenly playful features, so innocent and inclusive and singularly engaging; never far from his face, never far from _him_. Such an offsetting sensation, but so easy to get lost in.

"Gimmy," Joey reached above lazily, pawing at the emerald and white package.

“Cigarette?"

“Please."

"I suppose," the brunette pretended to put up any semblance of a fight, leaning down over the mess of blonde hair, cigarette in one hand, lighter in the other, and both of them wrapped around either side of him.

Doting on the smaller boy in a way that was almost possessive, Sam cocked her head to the side, refocusing on the familiar symmetry of the locket that slipped out from Seto's shirt and the trading cards she faintly recalled finding in Joey's apartment.

"OH MY GOD," she exclaimed suddenly, startling the other two, "do you know what you two remind me of? Those, oh my god, what are they," she stared downward, in high, drunken, girlishly absorbed thought, "like weird _comics_ where they're always like, playing sports, or card games," she gestured invasively at the object around his neck for inference, "or there are like…MONSTERS and shit…" she tacked on ineffectually, trailing away only to slam her fist triumphantly into her other hand, "and _BAM_ ," she concluded, "they just start fucking.”

Steadily taking, at least _trying_ to take in what she'd said, both of them had leaned forward, confusion more than evident, Joey scratching his head, and Kaiba squinting at her.

 "Monsters that _fuck_ …?" Joey asked, repulsed and baffled, "I don't get it.”

"No, no, like, there's always a bunch of unrelated action-movie-pseudo-sports-sci-fi-lord of the ring's-lookin-fantasy crap at the beginning and then all of a sudden—“

"Wait a second," Kaiba interrupted, "are you talking about _DOUJINSHI!?_ ”

"YEAH!" her enthusiasm accelerated, " _that's_ what it's called! You guys ar—“

"Aaaand, **this** conversation just ended," Joey intercepted, shaking his head as she tried to continue.

" _Definitely_ over," the brunette reached down for the cigarette in the other's hand before getting up to open a window.

"Oh, _seriously,_ " her hands fell against her hips, "after _everything_ else I've said, _that's_ what's suddenly worth getting embarrassed about!? God, what a waste," she slurred, waving them off as she took her leave somewhere in the direction of the bathroom.

The both of them _beyond_ embarrassed, wide eyes engaging one another, their upfront familiarity combining with her offhanded mentioning of _Duel Monsters_ incorporating with some horrifically intoxicated accuracy. The alcohol and the weed potentiating a spew of Japanese between the two of them the second she was out of range.

"I bet it exists," the blonde prompted.

"Dude, it _totally_ exists," Kaiba reaffirmed.

Both of them concluding, "We're never looking.”

"Never," Joey continued.

The brunette emphasizing, "Ever, _Ever_.”

Second cigarettes lit within literal seconds.

Cellphone screens illuminating even faster. 

"FUCK, I looked!”

"ME TOO!” 

Contradictory and counterproductive.

" _HAH_ ," Joey exclaimed, “BOTTOMED- _BOTTOMED_!"

As Seto's finger flicked upward against his phone, "Why the fuck am I a _girl_ now?”

"And why is your dad here?" the blonde kept turning his head farther to the side.

"Is that a _DRAGON!?”_

"Oh my god, my eyes, MY EYES!”

“DUDE, _DON'T_ CLICK THAT ONE!”

"What are you guys _doing_?”

"NOTHING," Kaiba smacked the device from Joey's hands, so fast that it flung to the side and knocked over a half empty glass, then throwing his own somewhere behind him.

"Yeah, _see_ ," both hands rose emptily, “nothing."

"Oohkay," amethyst irises widened and narrowed, "you guys like…never talk in Japanese, though…what didn't you want me to hear!?" her voice picked up defensively.

"It _is_ our language," Joey was surprisingly quick to deflect.

And Kaiba nodded firmly, "Yeah, and we'll speak it if we want to!”

And then, without a moment between, they both burst out laughing, so uncontrolled, stomach muscles all achy and sore from contracting against the pressure, the brunette slapping the other on the back as he folded forward and the blonde rolled over onto his side, fist hitting the ground. Unable to put the hilarity into words, howling, and heaving unsteady surges of laughter and oxygen, trying to recompose themselves, and failing miserably.

Eyes red and glistening before they finally stopped, Sam so vicariously fucked in the head from just watching, hitting the bowl long and hard, features twisting, perceptually incapable of this particular scene. Joey holding his breast, as he exhaled, " _Ohhh..._ that was too much," he wiped his eyes as Kaiba mirrored the motions, " _Seriously_ , cigarette?" "Mhm," the other nodded in sync, "Lighter?" "Yeah," blue eyes flicked upward at the device, both of them swapping and exchanging in perfect unison.

"Oh, but when _I_ go off on a tangent, it's _crazy talk_ ," she was shaking her head, "you should _see_ yourselves right now.”

"Ohh, I think we've seen enough," Kaiba extended his vocals, and Joey snorted.

"Get a room already.”

"Yeah, we'll jump off that bridge when we come to it," the blonde grinned, sinking back against the couch, and closing his eyes.

Blue eyes widening for a fraction of a second, "You're drunk," he nudged him.

 "Maybe," Joey allowed the motion to unsteady him, only swaying back in the same direction and landing with his face pressed to the other's knee; body slumping into itself in a matter of minutes, lips parted, and breathing slow, yet audible spurts. Occasionally fidgeting and fluctuating with a short lived smile or surfacing smirk as he nestled into the fabric, readjusting; and Kaiba reached down to ease the lit menthol from between his fingers like a _Jenga_ block _,_ trying not to let either the cigarette or the one framing it fall.

"Definitely drunk," he glanced up towards Sam with a grin.

Having failed to notice the way she'd been looking at them, the way something about it had changed, so serious and sobering—side tracked and no longer sarcastic, but saddened. Skeptical. So wary of the way she'd watched this unfolding in front of her, from the other night, but to be honest, mostly just today. The shifting occurring too quickly, her concern unable to abandon the fact that none of the stories made sense…

"Y'wanna help me with him," Seto hinted in her direction, hands on either sides of Joey's shoulders, trying to steady him, Sam's train of thought temporarily dispelling upon interruption.

Shaking her head and joining in to conquer the task of putting Joey to bed, rearranging him in a manner that granted the brunette some mobility. Getting to his feet and linking his arms under Joey's while Sam gathered him in her arms around the waist, and the both of them simultaneously pulled the deadweight of the intoxicated drunkard to the longer couch. Propping his head against the armrest and straightening out his legs as he squirmed uncooperatively and murmured nonsensically with soft, disorienting mewing sounds, rolling onto his side and burying himself into the cushions.

Standing upright, Kaiba stretched, "Eh, I wish I'd gotten some water or an Advil or four into him before he went passing out like that," blue eyes fell on the body beneath his gaze.

"Not quite sure it was purely alcohol he was so drunk off," Sam muttered under her breath.

"What was that?”

"Nothing," she deflected, pretending it wasn't so clearly about him, only to change her mind no more than ten seconds later, "Hey…do you think I could talk to you for a minute?”

"Yeah, shoot," he cocked his head, dragging his cigarette.

She shuffled her feet self consciously in sight of Joey, "Outside, I mean.”

"Uhm, sure," Kaiba replied with greater resistance, wringing his hands at the inference of the other boy his eyes were drawn toward. A greater unease forming in the pitfalls of his stomach as he followed her into the hallway, her intonation indicative of something else. Something suddenly serious that he was more than just certain he didn't like the sound of.

❰❬✘❭❱

Standing awkwardly on the other side of his front door, the atmospheric tension rose thickly, and Sam stood somewhere farther away, but facing him. His own features systematically shutting down as he could sense her about to speak, the heaviness that transferred from words not yet offered into an undesirable sort of suspense.

Not feeling quite so fucked up all of a sudden, both instinctual and consequential, every ounce of humor siphoned from prior conversations, ill at ease as the mood slowly died. The brunette crossing his arms tightly across his chest when she stopped dragging her feet and Sam's eyes shot up in a complete _360_ from their previous optic radius, no longer lighthearted, but ambiguous and staring right at him.

Or through him, he should say, at least that's how it all felt.

She cleared her throat. "Listen, I won't presume to know you, but anyone with eyes can see that you're walking down a very beaten path; and I think you're as aware as I am that he's following you. You, and very specifically _you,_ and from what little I've heard, you're far less reluctant and a little too fond of letting him," she paused, "and, well, I know there's an expiration date, I know he initiated it, and I know you're supposed to be this big asshole who suddenly accepted to submit to an otherwise insufferable farce for the sake of someone you don't even consider your friend. And I think Joey's impulsive and a little too on the sleeve to get away with being as clever as to pull one over on a person like you," she accused without sounding accusatory, "who strikes me as more a veteran of strategy than just your average, ambitious twenty something, and I think Joey knows that too; and you've probably turned it ten to a hundred times over, but still, neither of you are looking where you're supposed to. While he's busy matching your pace, you're glued to his face—but there's no such thing as a pensively proceeding with a lack of caution.”

"Where are you going with all this?" Kaiba interrupted quite suddenly, intonation on the offensive, inner addict reflexively the defensive.

"Exactly there—if you have to ask, it's clear you don't know either, and clearly aren't looking backwards for guidance, no more than Joey's staring forward out of an abundance of knowledge for what he's leaving behind.”

 _I know this already,_ he thought, irritated. Feeling his intelligence being undermined and insulted by someone he'd met no more than a fortnight ago, going from supportive to superimposed, unclear motives emerging.

"You're probably thinking, 'how presumptuous of me'," she laughed, "and it's because I am. Like I said, I won't pretend to know you anymore than I'll pretend not to know how badly Joey wants to.”

From her careful choice of words, she was clearly feeling the heat of the mercilessly unyielding signature stare-down few people had the stomach to meet, but maintained an equally mysterious resistance of indescribable violet instead that carried its own unique fierceness. A rare phenomenon which was attractive and repelling enough to his own to permit the preemptive loosening of the safety beneath his trigger finger, tongue coiling like the barrel of a gun, carefully ready to release or bight the bullet at a seconds notice.

"And I know it's not my place…”

"But you're going to say it anyways," Kaiba spoke coolly, "and you're right, it's not like you know me, chances are, you don't really know Joey as well as you figure either," he added needlessly. Old habits of superiority hard to relinquish when called out in his own residence, her attitude so contradictory to ten minutes ago. "So be quick about it, I don't a history lesson, just say what it is you intend to say, there's no need to be so cryptic though, you're already exhausting my capacity to take superficial generalizations seriously by the second.”

" _Well_ , I know why he was so quick and persistent about calling you an asshole now," she absorbed without a scratch, not even the slightest flinch of her ego. "Kudos on acting so naturally, though." Her voice was thick with sarcasm that carried neither spite nor narcissistic undermining, almost more demeaning. "It's quite the oxymoron for a supposed genius such as yourself to have crafted quite so masterfully.”

 _That's because_ ** _this_** _is the oxymoron, can't you see the clearly contrary idiot standing right in front of you?_ His face giving away the exact lack of semblance he'd wanted. **_This_** _is the act; the rest was all me. And the only thing masterful about it is the man who successfully bred and reared them like cattle, merging the two into the, 'haven't you heard,'_ yours _truly._

The queer, but never less than cruel man who'd accepted and adopted two children upon the challenge of a chess match. However, perhaps it was Gozaburo who had truly wound up winning in some ways that day. The man who successfully morphed the act and the audition into the audience itself—a one man show comprised of two lesser evils—but go ahead and take ten seconds to believe the third, _he's always been the most convincing_ , Kaiba smiled, almost sadistically. Not towards Sam, just that bitch named _Karma_ who loved the bitter irony far more than some etymological little orphan boy unfortunate enough to inherit the position of the eldest pretender. With a hit out on the head of a family name so deep in metaphysical debt it was beyond laughable. His every transaction declined due to insufficient funds. _Goddamn_ the bittersweet irony of it all. The twisted allegorical bullshit they'd placed him here for.

The boy with everything because he'd lost _everyone._

And no matter how high he climbed, there was so much farther to go. Surrounded by an honest living, jumpstarted and enhanced by the blood money Gozoburo had stained his hands with—that very real blood of single-handedly killing off of an entire senior staff with $10,000,000 dollars and only eleven years on this earth. He supposed it was still dripping behind him after all this time, difficult to avoid leaving a paper trail in this day and age. His inheritance and his own private accounts kept separately—one used for good and the other evil—the highest grossing income that couldn't buy him a second chance. The first forcibly disowned by fate, murdered before he could even identify with it.

And _would_ have marked the next, but had been sacrificed for the sake of saving another from having it beaten out of them too, much abler to take the bruises and the dents than his brother—the brutal hours and psychological disfiguring—but never able to kill the strong willed boy who swallowed the abuse and the experiments and the pills and all the sleepless nights purely for the sake of the look on their faces the day he finally swallowed himself.

The ultimate Houdini. Locked up, shackled, and submerged underwater. Only, unlike the infamous escape artist, he was still holding his breath—well into the process of growing gills—a little inexperienced with words, but naturally selected as far as evolutionary traits. And he would never allow himself to die in a cage he'd put _himself_ into. Besides, speech hadn't been vital at the time, in fact, in that situation, maladaptive actually. Sound too unfamiliar back then, just muffled echoing he could make out on the other half of the glass, and eyes he couldn't help had turned so sharp.

But throughout it all, despite everything, he'd remained at his post, clutching the key—inhabiting the skin of something forced into a state of constant evolution, the skeleton of what had come first becoming the framework and the cage a symbol of the secondary reactions that had taken place. The science experiment that remained once the memories fell away into the darkness, the ability to communicate cut off then kept locked up, outer and inner appearances no longer bearing any prior resemblance, but all that remained.

And thus, the third had been the only choice. The last and only chance he would ever have, nobody got more than three, and so he didn't give a damn. It was alright if they wanted to extort him—to shape and style him—because he was practically a doll himself by the time he'd come of age, always somebody else but never some _one_.

_So, go a head and take a whack, see if anything falls out. Pick up a scalpel and try and take your pound of flesh for all it's worth. Pick up a baseball bat, a hacksaw, a morning glory, it doesn't make the slightest difference to me. Don't hold back, do your worst, just don't cry when I don't bleed._

"Like you already mentioned," his voice softened in condescending sweetness, "you don't, nor do you, presume to know me. But I don't dislike you," and that was true, she had shown him kindness unfamiliar of strangers and even more peculiar of his demeanor—that was a precious gift—but by no means a suit of armor, "so I'll only say this once. Never turn your back with the _presumption_ that you have the foresight to see the ten steps ahead of you I'm already standing.  _'Arrogant'_ , _'asshole'_ , doesn't matter, label me at your earliest, latest, and every convenience. External perception is fundamental of survival, so I don't stop to consider biological processes as something to be taken personally. Instinct is involuntary, thus offense is irrelevant and an unnecessary exertion of energy, and I will not waste it senselessly. I can be as villainous as you want to paint me; and I guarantee I can fit every color pallet almost perfectly—after all," he smiled smugly, "I am a genius, remember?”

 _Adderall_ drawing this out in the same cryptic sing-song he'd hypocritically bitten her head off about while simultaneously voiding his very real desire not to be genuinely mean by dragging it out in a way that did more damage than provide cushioning.

"And if you mean to meddle, or create these accusations, if you even, for a split second, pretend to grasp my underlying intentions for doing this, or the way I feel about Wheeler," last name replacing the blonde's first because the heat of the moment pumped so much blood from his heart to his throat he was embarrassed, _but to hell with it_ , he continued, continuity becoming an overlapping series of incomplete sentences he was struggling to keep straight. But it was the best he could do. The only thing he could think to do. Talking and talking until something came out right. "Then think long and hard, and then again, because you have no idea," indecisive word selections projected with unwavering conviction, "and you never will.”

"Joey's not like most people, and most people aren't anything in comparison; in fact, they don't even exist as far as I'm concerned. There is no value, they posses no meaning, I feel nothing. And I'm so sick of staring at such an ugly, warped world. At mirrors and false faces. And everything else that goes with it. So a smart girl like you should have no trouble connecting the dots you're always drawing between us so effortlessly rather than pretending they don't create an obvious picture," Seto began summarizing with such boldly backhanded compliments before going all deadpan and direct, "I don't look forward because for once in my life I've grown more fond of the one right next to me—no matter how irksome— _insufferable_ ," he directly quoted, his tongue so damn loose and liable; unhinging with surges of words mixed together with a series of unaddressed feelings consisting of exponentially unequivocal parts truth, alcohol, amphetamines, and partial spins and stretches of simplistic derivation.

Ratio and proportionality gone awry, "It's where I want to be right now, I chose it, and if you insist on interfering, well, let's just say, when it comes to the few things I deem important to me, get in my way, and I guarantee I'll become _every_ _bit_ the monster you want to make me out to be," he stood archly, "and I promise you, it's not pretty," deep eyes narrowed. "My resolve is indissoluble, my methods unorthodox, advantageous, and you'll see _very_ quickly that I am _not_ a nice person," he was exhaling more heavily, so bothered, so too far gone and in too deep to correct the eschewal of his feral half. "And that's no understatement either, I will extirpate all that stands in my way. Go ahead and ask Joey, he'll tell you better than anybody just how true that is.”

"Tell me what?" Joey asked from the doorway, yawning and rubbing eyes, "You're too noisy," he reached out, taking ahold of the edge of Seto's shirt, tugging like an impatient child, "and you use so many big words when you're trying to scare people—" pausing again to yawn and hiccuping at the same time, "mean Seto's so less decorous," hazel eyes poured upward with a goofy grin, " _Defense Mode.”_

Kaiba grumbled, staring permissively at the ground, not only slipping a little too far into his strings, but _adderall’_ ing away the most unforgivable utterances. Not all of them incorrect, but not something he'd just offer up like that, like he had to put the blonde up as collateral to get his point across, _so manipulative and like-minded of me_ , one interpersonal slight and the psychosis switch flips.

"Don't ever give Kaiba advice," Joey's head poked out from behind the other boy's shoulders, "he'll just lose his shit," the blonde made direct contact, thanks to the propinquity and proximal advancing. "Mr. Boss Man," he grinned, jabbing him repeatedly—playfully—too drunk and touching the brunette too often and too frequently, stomach muscles left without any other choice but to clench, and it only made Joey's grin wider, "See? He's already getting angry with me.”

"Am not!”

" _The CEO of the World_ doesn't need to learn anything from anybody," more direct quotes came alive, everything happening so fast, "he's already very busy giving orders, c'mon _Mr. GQ_ , just go _ah—_ "

" _Shut your stupid face already_ ," Kaiba's palm pushed his head back, "God!— _you're_ the _real_ pain.”

"And you're no trip to the candy store either," Joey retracted, sidestepping back into his former position, closer, fingers and fabric folding together, "He may be a little bittersweet," he turned his attention to Sam, "probably more bitter, no, basically just a basket—he might not show it, and he's a bit more murderous than most plastic," the blonde was slurring in somehow perfect drunken semantics, diffusing much more than their squabble; questionable hands colliding with the curve of broad shoulders, patting them down before roaming thoroughly along the length of the other's abdomen, "and no handles as far as I can tell," he concluded, gripping both the brunette's hipbones, hands _far more_ formfitting. "So, as you can see, he's pretty impossible to handle, but he's also carrying a whole lot," Joey squeezed lightly before letting go, smiling upward towards Sam, "so you don't need to worry, you'll only upset him, and he's too protective to understand he's bordering more certifiably than sensibly—but don't ever expect sensitive," Joey was laughing to himself again, " _unlesss_ you happen to beat him at just about anything, then he'll buy a jet and ship you half way around the world so he can sulk.”

Kaiba shirked away roughly—so much of his personal life all out in the open—such drastically different, but symbiotic conversations taking place one after the other. Inhabiting such opposing roles than before.

"But that's what makes him so strong," Joey announced, "one day he's going to take over the world, I guarantee it, but it's a lot of pressure. A lot of stress, and he's already holding so much," there was a delicate tug on the adjacent shirt end, a slightly guilt ridden, downward glance holding, "they're completely full. And," such an encumbering fluctuation before contravening, "...he doesn't even really like me...but somehow he made room," Joey looked up sheepishly, flushed and free hand tangling up through his hair, "and even though I kind of hate him too, like kind of a whole-whole lot," the brunette shot him a peripheral glance that was quick to widen, "I'm glad I found him.”

Hazel coloring steadily starting to shift, swirling stained mahogany and precious jade into a background flecked with scarlet, an ineffable, genuine refocusing like the night sky swallowing the ocean. 

"I'm glad it was you," he fluctuated between the shyness and the small, delicate smile that formed alongside it, "It's weird, but it almost feels like maybe it wasn't really the right person who I thought I hated all this time; because until recently, I never even met him. Never had any clue he was there, never even cared or took the time to look. After all these years, it never once occurred to me. But here we are, after god knows how much time, and I don't think I'm even that upset about how it all played out.”

An authentic rounding of blue began to sink through the sky, sinking in such warmer shades, drowning in the wave of twinkling little red lights illuminating the darkest depths till he found himself floating, surrounded, Sam not understanding, a smug satisfaction lapping in a green that was neither blood stained bills nor a jealous, petty monster, but sea foam melting and dissolving emerald and jade into shades of paint—bedroom walls...so familiar, but so faint...the smell of sycamore. This sudden, unshakable feeling that he felt incredibly safe.

 "Because you were worth the wait," Joey beamed, subconsciously holding his shirt sleeve this time, embarrassing the brunette, who's heart jumped, thinking it were his hand; but nothing about the way the blonde was looking at him felt stupid. Just safe. Okay. _This was okay. This was normal_ , and he craned his neck towards Sam, Joey practically glowing with flushed cheeks and an innocent, indirect excuse for involuntary contact, that although automatic, just gave it a whole entirely new level of intimacy quite different than before.

The words she didn't understand, like a secret language they'd spoken since childhood, but predisposed to the knowledge that they'd never, even in the very least, ever been friends. Let alone cordial enough to come to submit to such contact and call it purely casual gave her more pause. Just something that didn't seem natural to an objective third party. Something that arose further suspicion.

But how could she possibly want to pry apart this transitional stabilization based purely on a hunch? Well, circumstantial evidence was the more operative wording she glanced back at the bodies she swore were about to morph together one day—even at a distance, like they'd stitched their shadows and souls alike together. For now though, did it matter? She could tell that Joey was happier than she'd seen him since the most longing object in his gaze was the putrid stench of Lake Michigan, it's filmy algae, the occasional dead fish, his eyes so lost and far removed. Searching for something far away, or perhaps no longer there. Or simply a far less complicated human desire for a comfort more tangible than the soothing sound of waves, that no matter how submerged, could only push and pull you under. An infinite body without arms, just an insatiable appetite. And he may have metaphorically slurred Seto as having no handles, but then again, it wasn't Seto who needed handling. Nor did Joey, he wasn't a dog, he wasn't searching for some Katy Perry song, for someone made of paper, plastic, or whatever the lyrics were, drifting through the wind. He wanted the here and now. The arms that could hold him; because face it, after awhile, holding yourself only makes the pain more profuse, the anxiety, the hopelessness, and the tears.

The subsequent cure none other than the strong, almost planetary presence he was orbiting, the full rotation it had taken to come with in gravitational range, and she'd be the first to admit that, although his personality fit and falsified his external features, he seemed like the kind of man that would fight for you when the walls fell down, who'd build them for you if they had never been there, and he'd said as much himself, in more or less verbal warning shots. Still laughable that he perceived her as a threat, but speculative as to whether it was the factor of attraction or intuition that posed a factorable enough threat to address; albeit, that had been her doing too, hadn't it? I guess it was a lot of things, sure, she claimed to presume not to know him, but she knew his _type,_ she knew it quite well; and no one could deny the sense of something protective, that sense of defense mixed in with manic possessive and the discarded pharmaceutical receipt she'd found by accident, somewhere beneath the bathroom sink while looking for toilet paper.

But that wasn't her business either, though. And passion didn't always automatically mean addict, she was just, very thrown off by a personality as strong as hers. _I bet he's a fucking Scorpio,_ she shook her head, not positive of the exact zodiac range, but it took one to know one. And that's what worried her, oh god, when was Joey's birthday again? Had she asked him? _For your sake I hope you're a Capricorn or a Cancer, or,_ ** _Christ,_** _there was no way in hell Joey was a Capricorn. A Cancer? Maybe? No, wait, that'd be worse, or is it different for two dudes? Or, no, wait, don't water signs get along? Fuck._ ** _Whatever,_** _I just hope for your sake you're not an air sign._ Just fuel for the fire. Twice as much for the relentless waters to lay to waste, dampening the spark, drowning out all the warmth and the light until there wasn't even a single ember left to smolder.

Sighing without conclusion, and the awareness of lingering in this small enclosure as if she were a mistress freshly discovered, Sam decided she probably shouldn't have smoked so much, drank, and then dragged a fellow Scorpio into battle. _Especially one who hates to lose so much it's become satirical_ , she took him at his word far before he'd extended it. You didn't have to look past his eyes to understand he was one of those people it was best not to rub the wrong way. Even though he'd been kind, Joey was accurate in his description, with such a natural, almost primal air of superiority, _and a face like that_ she sighed inwardly, _I doubt there's much he_ ** _couldn't_** _take over._

It was a comfort at least, to know that neither of them would take it too seriously, because she enjoyed this little trio. Not only were they fun to be with—their isolated dispositions making for such a comical, yet unexpectedly functional dynamic despite their clashing dysfunction—but they were also both incredibly easy on the eyes. And this whole thing felt like she'd jumped into the live action movie of a long standing female fantasy. Although she felt a tad bit more than a tad bit creepy admitting it while still relishing, but if she hadn't witnessed so many bridge-worthy moments, caught the accompanying pushing of the boundaries events that weren't exactly afraid to quite literally press the proper buttons, combine with the idea of rivals turned friends, she probably would have had an easier time sustaining from provoking it on.

Although, as a woman with a mental compulsion for this sort of thing, she knew when to separate with what she'd seen with her actual eyes than the images that transposed in her brain. And…the closeness wasn't sexual per say—more ambiguous than not—and a _few_ justifiably questionable things. And for all she knew, it was just a running joke—they seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious—so what made her think she had any right to assume anything ulterior? No, the fantasy and her developing fears weren't necessarily interchangeable, but in the end, it was clear she'd overstepped. She'd leave them be, final verdict, this was her second night as an intruder after all, and her second in a row this week avoiding something else entirely.

Then she caught sight of blue eyes cutting through the distance, _fucking, Scorpio, alright._

"Are we done here?”

"Yeah," she submitted, trying to keep this brief, "just don't underestimate what I mentioned earlier, the—”

"Beaten path, yes, I remember.”

"Well, then keep in mind that you're not the first one to walk it, it's been paved immemorially," she spoke, even toned, "everything regresses to the mean in due time, and it only leads one place." 

And with that, she turned to take her leave, glancing over her shoulder before boarding the elevator, catching his eyes as their gazes converged like continents crashing together. A photochromic electro-prism of purple accepting the implied challenge as the brief confrontation intensified, streaks of contrast and opposing frequencies crackling against her irises as if they were lightning rods absorbing the voltage while the opposing pair created a mirror. Confident and unintimidated, high definition deflections of hissing white light reflected back in a blinding sheen that flickered and faded out like a fourth of July sparkler leaving behind faint afterimages and trails of vanishing luminescence as the impurities within their currents overturned and began conducting. Twisting the electricity through the ebb and flow of unpredictable waters like it was mere child's play. Like he didn't feel the deadly, immobilizing shocks of such a dangerous elemental combination attacking his body.

Giving rise to an immediate friction between them that repelled and resisted as much as it magnetized and attracted, charged and ever changing shades of lavender and heliotrope radiating from beneath long, dark, mascara clad lashes in a kaleidoscope of inimitable dispersions cast from ice-cold facets. Cut with expert precision and formed under immense pressure until they'd crystalized, fractures of liquid wisteria striking and clashing into accents of eggplant and faint scintillations of sangria that continuously altered with even the slightest shift.

Playing the reflective surface false, streaks of white gold that pierced the water out of nowhere, too unsettling the way they changed in so many ways and adapted to his own elements as effortlessly as he'd adapted to theirs. Too much going on and too little given away to get an accurate read. Such an unnatural combination of unique, individual hues. Deep like wine or painted storms, water colors that ran together, and light like beaten silver. Something iridescent and see through like intricate stained-glass all clashing against the seafloor spreading of lapis and cerulean fighting back and constantly forming as divergent rifts split apart and ridges shifted simultaneously in either direction.

Attenuated and dragged along by cooler, denser systems sinking while leaving new foundations in his stead until the means to create soon required a mechanism by which also to destroy in order to preserve the necessary balance. Building himself up then breaking himself down with little concern for how thin he must have stretched himself, or how many countless directions he was he was being pulled, aegean and arctic rings subducting the weight and the depth of such refined and unremitting oceanic persuasion, unmoving focus, strength, and ironclad resolve converging in steady collisions of introspective oceanic and continental lithosphere being sucked beneath one another at an agonizing pace where the Ocean always lost.

Was devoured by the more stable landmass, slipping slowly through spectrums of thickening blue, deep into the abysmal pitch black haldalpelogic trenches—waiting, watching, weighing his options—those eyes he could easily drown you with, could drink you in and drag you down if he so wished. She could tell that right away; the visual hold both equal parts cryptic and guarded and totally foreign to her, this heartless stare that felt nothing, that seemed to be deciding to itself whether or not to rip you apart instead; and yet, there was a deeper emotional undertow pushing and pulling these processes, this secrecy, this refocusing of feeling that seemed to entirely contradict the lifeless person they projected. Those eyes completely swallowed by the furthest level of the seafloor, too complex to decipher, and too deep to reach the bottom of.

These two mysteriously calm but piercing colors still mercilessly colliding like waves against a seawall in this furious swell before Sam finally opened her mouth and broke down shades of blue with six simple words, "what goes up, must _**come** down.”_

Fragmentary dispersions of blue fixated but refocusing in a manner he did not like the feeling accompanying, but she'd already disappeared behind the metallic finish of elevator doors clamping together, descending floors. Chest filling heatedly until an innocent confusion beckoned him backward, the smaller boy cocking his head confusedly.

"Is she still talking about Doujinshi?”

"Jesus, get _inside,"_ he clasped his hand across Joey's mouth.

The blonde stared mercilessly, such effortless humility for such insufferable teasing, " _Get inside?_ Whoa, now," one eyebrow arched, "for your sake, I'll pretend I didn't just hear that," he grinned.

 _"Whyyyy,"_ Kaiba exclaimed, extending his vocals, " _Why_ would you say that!?”

He shrugged. " _You're_ the one who said it. Don't go blaming basic human nature," another playfully baiting wink, "just think a little harder before you make such bold requests.”

Kaiba didn't even know whether to feel infuriated or slightly embarrassed.

"God, you must have the worst foreplay," the brunette rubbed his temples.

To which hazel eyes angled quite unfairly, the simple, surefooted steps and upwards delving of his chest cresting like a wave that was arousing suspicion, the brunette watching the systematic shifts that were far from subtle. "Care to be proven wrong?" Joey asked, an edgy promiscuity in his smile.

 _Look who's saying shit with a straight face NOW,_ Kaiba scoffed inwardly, already blocked in, back—quite literally—up against a wall. Drawing a blank, but another queer—no pun intended—edge over some otherwise nonexistent competitor.

"Is this you telling me you'd _care_ to try?" he asked coolly, not impersonal, just that air of composure. 

The only real competition right in front of him, to see which of them could unsteady the other, so he angled against the surface that was no longer metaphorical, and crossed his arms laxly. "Fine then," he consented, evidently cocky, _he wouldn't dare_ , "go ahead, _try,"_ he craned his neck forward as if to invalidate, "but don’t—"

The very real sensation of a skilled set of hands intercepting, palm spread and starting at the highest point of his thigh, " _be upset when you're wrong?"_ an uncharacteristically wicked grin set synchronously with the wicked way his hand gripped weightlessly enough to apply pressure, thumb drawn more exploratory along the inward curve shaping his hip.

Something Kaiba could quite literally feel in his bones, the shivering context of fabric consequently bunching with the four other fingers he'd forgotten about rejoining the invasive gesture; slipping with a much abler, more implicative grip that pushed alongside his abdomen until it angled and pressed his chest flat.

Too intoxicated off the tensing to care why it was taking place, why he'd managed to guide the adjacent appendage to the small of the brunette's back—where those perfect symmetrical dimples he'd been so enamored with butterflied somewhere beneath his drunken fingertips—thumb and forefinger aligning gently to find the indentations before Kaiba covered his face, " _Oh my god, I can't do it_ ," he bent forward, breaking free, so unmistakably red in the face as he fumbled out of focus with his cigarettes, not an angry shade either, just genuinely blushing so hard it was making Joey smile.

"Not so shy anymore, are you, Wheeler?” he mumbled into the motions of his menthol and lighter overlapping.

"Just kind of curious," Joey admitted, reaching likewise for a shot of something to occupy or intervene, "more so just trying to fuck with you, I never thought you'd _agree,_ though.”

"Well it's not like _I_ thought you were gonna go all _seven minutes in heaven hands,"_ he dragged embarrassedly.

"Me neither, but then I thought, _fuck it,_ I've gotta defend—" then he paused, grin expanding troublingly, "wait—did you just admit what I _think_ you—.”

" **Yes.** Christ, you're so perceptive today it's obnoxious," blue eyes were engaging flatly, "Stop getting off so hard on your victory, just go do a dance or something, leave me out of it, though.”

"Victory, eh?" that was a tad bit more explicit of an admission, "So, I made you feel good, huh?”

 _"Gross,"_ they transcended into a scowl. "Don't word shit like that.”

"But it did," Joey reaffirmed, "feel good, though?”

"Just whatever the last thing you did," he was flicking his wrist as if to dismiss the subject, "and the thing with m—" hesitating, caught on the _my,_ "the hip thing," he rephrased.

"Thought'cha might, your whole body _tweaked_ when I used them as props for my bag metaphor earlier.”

"Thanks for…noticing, I guess? Scratch that, don't ever personalize a gesture like that again. I'll kill you.”

"You're just like, SUPER sensitive," Joey both ignored and observed blatantly, "although…" he trailed off, "I _suppose_ that's half my fault too," a funny and poorly suppressed grin surfacing, "y'know, taking advantage of a _virgin_ and all.”

" **Gross. GROSS. _GROSS_** _,"_ he chorused, "just _why._ ** _WHY_** _,"_ Kaiba concealed his whole face, covering it with both hands as if to extract the knowledge by sheer force of will. "I swear," he forewarned, capacity for tolerance all but vanishing, "if the word _Sempai_ ever, _EVER_ comes out of your face—.”

"Next time I’ll—."

They both paused, eyes bulging at the imaginary right to left censored panels they were starting to jump from, contact immediately reconnecting blue to brown in mutually conclusive horror.

 _"Shots,"_ they redirected in perfect unison.

"Yeah, yeah, **shots**.”

_"Definitely shots.”_

Saving no time for cheers'ing, just pouring and tipping back two for two until the number multiplied somewhere around six times how drunk they'd been at the start. Feeling less awkward, no longer uncomfortable with the fact they were no longer uncomfortable—more uncomfortable with the idea they _hadn't_ been uncomfortable with the bodily contact, the once indirect and no longer, by any means, innocent advancing thematic of the _hands on_ approach the whole day held true.

 _Amphetamines_ already stimulating, the twenty-four hour withdraw from _benzoids_ bending the basic disinterest into basic needs. So **_totally_** _fucked._ Not satiated but satisfied, the desire to keep using that produced the direct sensation from the amygdala to forebrain that in turn enabled the addiction of obtaining as many forms of such unprecedented rushes; forgoing the part that sorted it all out, skipping from the memory of pleasure induced behaviors, and instinct overriding the rest.

Logic no longer applying when one time became a lifelong disease. Ignorant to the other's, but quite aware of their own increasing tolerance, the prescriptions they treated like secrets they withheld only the names of; growing too scarce, too quickly reduced, and requiring too many to share them so openly. Such reassurance in the collective identity it was all still okay, matching and making up for the elemental chemistry the other lacked whenever doubt threatened to expose their faults. Canceling it out, subconsciously symbiotic in this shared sickness that they felt no external threats from a reality they'd created like second nature. 

No reason to treat anything except themselves, to indulge in additional helpings, to spoil the taste buds that had taken a mutual liking to the forbidden fruit of a third and final byproduct creating and destructing in perfect harmony with preservation; imbalance numerically indicative of an ultimately stable system. Smiling like drunken fools, respectively relishing even after the high died out under the certain weight of the depressant they swallowed up like sea water, enough to choke, dehydrate, and dry out the mouth, making them sway as the emotional and thought provoking seasickness washed over them.

"Let me just say that I'll forget all this happened tomorrow," Kaiba cleared his throat, "I wish I meant literally, but you best do the same," he cocked his head, "although it might be quite literal in your case.”

"Even better," Joey lied, "kind of makes me wanna drink enough to make certain of that.”

“Well, as appealing an idea that may be, I can't let you get any drunker, seriously, the last thing I need is another trip to the…" he caught himself immediately, but not retractable enough, about to admit the singular detail of his deeply rooted guilty conscious he was so wasted.

"Trip to where?”

"Morning after land," he substituted expertly.

"I don't know, you're pretty fun in _Morning After Land_ ," Joey closed his eyes with a grin, inner word choice providing the word _adorable_ , able to substitute it rather than sacrifice his embarrassment aloud this time.

"Twice would be nothing more than coincidence," the other dismissed, shutting out the idea, shutting down in the face of closeness that was always ten times closer than where he'd left it, swaying as he lifted to his feet, head dizzy and vision temporarily blackening before coming back in a fuzzy pulsing, "anyways, couch is all yours, I can't very well have you walking home this late in good conscience, so sleep it off, and I'll see you in the morning," he was quick to conclude, rubbing his eyes as he walked off in the direction of his bedroom, left arm growing sore, such a throbbing pain from so many cigarettes smoked and amphetamine salts dissolving in empty pitfalls of alcohol and nothing to eat, his chest in equal exhaustion, this shallow pressured beating. Navigating like a blind man through the darkness towards his bed, so ready to collapse, curl up, and consolidate sleep with lack of sensory awareness, every inch of his nervous system so painfully depleted, proceeding to pull back his comforter while a hand proceeded to pull back his shirt.

Startled, the space between his breast palpitated in a heavy, horrid thumping that sent one hand pressing into his chest, as if to shove it back in sync, squinting in the darkness to decipher the features holding him accountable for something he was no longer sure of.

Dull illuminations of blonde clearly avoiding the direct eye contact, reverting back into that shell of awkward innocent expression, physical and verbal both, fingers in such a delicate shy tangle, applying ineffective pressure, "it's too empty out there," he spoke quietly into the pitch dark, "I..I don't really sleep well in big open spaces, they…”

Sighing deeply, exhausted—the big brother trigger activating somewhere in his solar plexus like an automatic reflex—he took the fabric from the hesitating grip and hooked several fingers around several of Joey's, leading him through the dark with a yawn, "Well, I guess we better make you a room then.”

 _A room_ , such a personal sounding concept, but still eluding Joey from anything close to sense making as he was sat back down and told, "Now, you wait here, I'll be right back," watching the brunette yawning and making his way fatigued yet somehow still focused enough to function over towards what appeared to be a linen closet. Wrapping the length of his arms around a collection of blankets and things, dumping them at the blonde's feet before his body carried him off towards the kitchen, rummaging through a few different drawers before finding whatever it was he was looking for.

"Up," he instructed Joey, lifting one leg up to the previously occupied cushion and pulling the rest of his weight, steadying himself atop the compressing surface, "h-ld th-s," he proceeded with a few dozen clips and tacks in his mouth, handing Joey one of the sheet ends.

He did as he was told, watching as the brunette's arms extended overhead, so tall his fingertips brushed the ceiling with ease, shirt riding back up over the body that was quick to preoccupy his glances, "seriously, take the damn picture already," blue eyes looked down hopelessly, "now, give me that," he took the sheet, interconnecting it with a series of pushpins and clamps he'd secured above, moving along the couch as the blonde began to intuitively follow. Alternating the exchange of fabrics and fastens until they were standing in the ultimate blanket fort.

Kaiba, clearly past the point of exhaustion, sliding down the couch to the floor with another irrepressible yawn, surrounded by an enclosure of perfect proportion and several subdivided sections, rubbing his eyes, as Joey gingerly knelt down somewhere next to him.

"This okay?" he asked, eyes already closed.

"You really are amazing," Joey's own were tracing the makeshift fortress the other mapped out from the mere blueprint of his own mental capacity.

A small grin cracking, "You really are easy to impress.”

"Yeah, it's okay," the blonde redirected. 

"Good," Seto muttered, slumping with the weight of gravity, "now go to sleep.”

A palpitating inability to do such a thing immediately arising the minute the other's posture instigated the alignment of the elder's head against his shoulder, body half turned, Joey's supporting the better half of his weight, slow, inaudible, unsteadied breaths creating a sound like wind gently rustling through the leaves, realizing Kaiba was sound asleep.

The blonde sighed, pulling the comforter from beside the other, the brunettes body flinching, face scrunching disobligingly, _you really are so simple when you're sleeping_ , he thought to himself, fanning the blanket out so that it fell over the opposing body first, _so real_ , Joey admired, again, with a sort of sadness, tucking himself under the remaining length of the down comforter and turning to fit the ever curling body pressing into his own until they conformed like corresponding angles, one arm angled atop the couch and under his head as sleep took hold of him more rapidly, nervousness evaporating. The warmth radiating from the comfort of another body he never could quite sleep the same without, lashes fluttering with hazy images of the other's hand somewhere back to the same space against his chest, as if some ingrained reflex to reach out emerged the second Seto let down his guard, some urgency to confirm he wasn't alone, a childlike comfort, like fingers furrowing into the fur of a cherished stuffed animal. Hazel eyes going heavy, nodding in and out of the darkness.

_You manipulative, kindhearted, son of a bitch._


	17. (PART TWO: DESTRUCTION) Reduced Visibility.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two: Destruction. (sorry, this one's super short)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, aahheeemCOUGHCoUgH...The new Yu-Gi-Oh movie was. Fucking. SO WORTH IT. SO GOOD. AND SO GODDAMN WORTH GOING TO SEE IN THEATERS! My little sister was LEGIT like grabbing onto my arm and losing her shit for like the entire last 15-20 minutes. And the two of us just geeked out afterwards, speechless but spewing and reliving the revitalization of the YGO world and a sassy, amazing, great, fucking in depth characterized Kaiba I felt like I got to watch my fanfic adaptation come to life on the big screen haha. Oh, and, y'know, Joey's animation wasn't PERFECT AS FUCK or anything lol, like, damn, good job Japan. At 25, they still have me fawning over a 2D fictional character who plays card games. And pft. Kaiba's not so bad on the eyes either, baha, albeit like RIPPED as fuck. 
> 
> Like half the cast just bench pressed their goddamn hearts off the last half of high school. And I mean, for real, if you're one of the people who happens to read this, PULL UP GOOGLE RIGHT NOW, search and see if it's playing anywhere close to you, AND GO. GO NOW. I'm SOOO happy not having waited for it to come out on dvd or iTunes or whatever. Because, like I said, both my sister and I, 25 and 21 years old and after we left, I smoked my like 10 bewildered cigarettes and the two of us were just so goddamn confusedly content and happy with life that we weren't even sure what to DO with ourselves. AND HANDS DOWN, we would go see it again, in 3D this time maybe. ANDDDD yeah. haha, YGO movie promotional motivational speech OVER.
> 
> AND SECONDLY, totally didn't mean to overshadow this, but EEP, the two new 'guests' who left me kudos (●﹏●ʃƪ) you wonderful, wonderful souls. Thank you so much!!!!!!!!

* * *

_EEP, to the two new **guests**  who left me kudos_ (●﹏●ʃƪ) _you wonderful, wonderful souls. Thank you so much!!!!!!!!_

* * *

 ҳ̸ *¯`·. **»ℙαʀʇ** ⊥ẘ0.↓. **D _ǝ_ δτ _ℝu_** Ⓒ **tⅈѲᵙ«**.·´¯*ҳ

 **ҳ̸ *¯`·.»** ⦶ **«.·´¯* ҳ**

* * *

  **⋱  
**                                                                                       ⋰© ᶣ ∀ ℘ ȶ ⧢ ℝ ❅ ⓱⋱  
_**Reduced Visibility.**   ⋰_  
**⋱❄ ❅ ❆⋰                ⋱** **. . .  
**

* * *

When he woke up, the room was empty, head in a dull throbbing as the brunette sat up, disoriented and glancing around with evident confusion, curled into a blanket that smelled of someone else, a pillow that hadn't been there previously resting beneath his head. Next to it a note.

_Didn't want to wake you. Just had to get going. Thanks for the room._

Short and sweet and unsigned, Kaiba crumpled it beneath his palm with a dull smile and shake of his head, gradually rising to his feet, comforter draped about him like a cape, his entire body suddenly feeling frozen. The heat of increased metabolic systems no longer active, ducking through the entrance, and teetering over towards the medicine cabinet. Dry swallowing two or three more than the recommended dose of _Tylenol Extra Strength_ and cringing at the bad idea that turned out to be before crawling atop his mattress, curled into the comforter that carried a distinct aroma, a series of small ash like flecks catching his eye, redirecting his gaze with perplexity towards the windowpane; dancing throughout the morning sky were soft, white feathery clumps, thickening as they accumulated and stuck together.

 _They're not actually supposed to come true_ , Kaiba muttered to himself, half in thought, and partially aloud, both acknowledging and scrutinizing the circumstances. I mean, for heavens sake, it was only October—but it was one of the earliest ever recorded days in meteorology that the city of Milwaukee had gotten snow before December. It was eerily disconcerting, he'd hardly celebrated his own birthday period in the past sixteen years, let alone made some foolish wish on the whim that the wick of an extinguishing candle would suddenly float into the atmosphere, all disjoining, and somehow defy the very laws of nature. And it was unsettling in a way, how something so simple could simply _be_.

How quick a subject you've always ignored and overlooked could become something as substantial as an _idea._ An idea that provides the argument for the cognitive essay-to-self; an argument that takes place deep in the differentiating hemispheres in your brain—between what you want and what you need.

A wish. A whim. _Wheeler,_ his brain tacked on systematically, almost alphabetically, blaming the semblance of similar letters and undeniably sad similarity of things he'd never seen value in. Things he'd wanted to need, and needed to want growing contradictory and unclear, but no less deniable they were all coming true. The whims of finding Wheeler, the more than out on a limb one that same person had taken to befriend him, even if by force, and the fact this long shot of accepting it had turned that whim into a wire, connecting them on rerouting levels, Wheeler being the very one to give him a proper birthday in the first place, the confidence to be childish, the hope required to put faith in extinguishing candles.

Something about the idea of burning out that didn't quite fit, that made his stomach spoil, candles were set on fire, the life sucked straight out of them for the sake of stealing all their light, then discarding their dead little bodies like trash. Would he too huff and puff and blow the boy down? Would he hesitate? Would he even have a choice? Growing emotional without natural emotion, irritable in such a way it tightened his chest; still disoriented, head still a dull thrumming of pain, not quite as sharp or capable enough to be considered functional, and then transitioning into an overwhelming burst of anger. Something about spending too much time in the sobriety after such a bender that sucked everything you said and every side of yourself you showed into deep speculation, a sort of reevaluating that found it all much less than favorable. The irrationality of it all seeming so obvious now, the inability to fathom why in gods name it seemed like such a good idea to act so unhindered when the point was to fortify control.

Angry with these conflicting feelings, angry with the shit state he'd left himself in, sitting up and fingering around his bedside table until knocking over an orange and white container that gave off a distinct _clank-clanking_ as it rolled on its side, shifting the contents within. Crudely twisting off the childproof cap, tossing it, and tipping the whole pill bottle back until he permitted three orange ovals to pass. Impatient, pacing, hating the mandatory 30 minutes he so often lost sight of being required to wait, tempted to take another half, but became increasingly distracted with his cigarettes. The hallway outside the front door he'd given such bold statements to when Sam confronted him. The blanket fort in his living room. The wall he'd been pushed up against. The oddly compelling confidence Joey had worn. The dominant roles they seemed to be slipping into as easily as the other. The lack of spite. The fact it was…fun.

The fact it was starting to make him feel sick.

 _Two days,_ he told himself, _it's been_ ** _two_** _fucking days_ …and you know what they say about _the first 48_ —once they were lost, so was all conceivable hope. All possibility—every chance to recover—Gone.

Kidnapped, rebranded, and then sold like interactive identity theft that ruined more than just your credit score, except this was much worse than any temporary mark you could get on your record, this was _permanent;_ untraceable, irreversible, and left sitting in a cold, drafty basement of boxes upon boxes collecting dust if you hadn't already been mindlessly computerized or compromised due to seasonal flooding. And slowly, but surely, it all sank in, and he felt somehow like he'd been stolen—petty reputation shifts and inaccuracies no longer disconcerting when you were no longer _on_ the record, period. The sacrifice of his dominant personality had ensured that much; but this was too much, too many 24 hour cycles amounting—that 48 mark was crucial—each day after that you disappeared. Like _Taken_ if Liam Neeson wasn't your dad, and let's face it, **_no one's_** _dad is Liam Neeson_ , Kaiba stressed with a stiff upper lip, _and both of mine are dead._

People stop looking, your priority level lowers, they give up, move on, forget, or at least try—but very few people ever have to relive it, and he'd been through this process twice before already, and he'd far from forgotten. No matter how cold and callous he could coax himself into a coy, convoluted Cheshire-Cat copy, it was merely costume jewelry. Just real enough. To be convincing, and not only to an audience, the trouble was when it came time to take it off, when you couldn't, when you were so in character you couldn't exist outside the illusion—that was the price of structure, survival, of _Seto,_ but the price of stoicism was that it must be swallowed. Little had he known, your insides were never the same; shape-shifted, scripted, and shipped off without ever being separated had left the rest of him, physically, an outsider, on the run from the implicit that was a part of the original design, so twisted and so deeply buried that you couldn't _possibly_ mistake it, that no infinite amount of zeros could pay to erase.

There was no forgetting, flashbacks didn't seek permission, those little flip-books that feel like fingers wrapping around the fragile throat of the fractured pauses of a person still fighting to find the sound of their own voice. Such a fucked up thing to forgo just in order to frown any evidence of identity away, pretending he'd dropped them. Those inseparable details. Pretending he'd truly lost track when there was a tombstone in his chest, an epitaph of existential crisis enshrouding the truth in fear, and fearing the truth so much he never had the foresight to see the flowers.

The pressure of feet and the face of someone who'd never once been his friend, but who'd, without reason, any tangible proof, without **_any_** reason to pay him any kindness, had gone out of his way to find him. _He bought me a present_ , Kaiba hung his head in shame, mixing in with the resonating embarrassment that left a partially flushed, flustering face to meet the object between both palms—fingers slightly crooked, holding it had felt so weightless it had gone unnoticed, and the thought of placing it anywhere but closest to him felt wrong somehow. Sad somehow. Something, a _feeling,_ an abomination to the proud, successful man who'd walked off that plane—to allow something so lethal to not having seen coming twist his lips into this overflowing fountain of honesty. To reveal his secrets, the only one that mattered, the only thing that ever truly belonged to him, the _only_ thing he had left.

Himself.

The six year old boy sewn into the strings, the true colors false bones had been built up around, and their _—his—_ very real ability to bleed. The source of false hope he'd been holding hostage, even when the brunette knew deep down it was the other way around—the refusal to ever be undone and remade—to remain as the world had left him. Back when he was human, complete, intact, _me,_ Seto cringed, deeply pained eyes clenching when they were temporarily unable to calculate. To possibly fathom or ever understand, having been so lost and alone and scared and shackled, having waited his whole life away, _two fucking days_ , he sighed again, exhausted, retreating, beginning to give into his original instincts as he set the piano paper to the side with a skillfully conditioned hand that refused to stop shaking.

The prior knowledge of post, pre, and present _PTSD_ is what caused so much alarm to rise in his core, palpitating in his chest like he was being brought back to life by the shock of paddles; but he knew better than to cling to such a naive metaphor and call it hope. He was already broken, and he was about to break again, _nobody ever brings you back alive._

And he was running out of lives.

This was no longer preventable.

This was **happening.**

 _How could you_ let _this happen?_

_"This is where I want to be right now, I chose it…"_

_"...because for the first time in my life I'm more fond of the one right next to me…"_

**_"But I'm glad I found him...I'm glad it was you...Because you were worth the wait.”_ **

**_"You really are amazing.”_ **

"No, no I'm not," his body folded forward, clenched fists pressed down by his face, "I'm the worst thing that's ever going to happen to you," such a gut wrenching pain when he replayed the previous night. The things they'd said. The way Joey had made him feel like maybe he was worthy of that praise, or just the fact he liked the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. The way he'd defended the blonde's importance so vehemently, mortified and guilt ridden and flighting and feeling everything come and go in the span of seconds. "I'll ruin your life," he whispered, amphetamine upstart always so heavy and emotional, intonation caught between a wince and crack, but so terribly quiet, "I'm ruining it right now.”

"What goes up, must _come_ ** _down_**.”

 _I'm going to bring him down_ , he frowned, this awful acidic taste rising from his stomach to his throat, _I'm going to destroy him._

**◈⊰ **⦶** ⊱❄⊰ **⦶** ⊱◈**

Back flat against his air mattress, Joey's eyes engaged the ceiling, tossing yellow ovals upward and catching them like kids caught popcorn and goldfish at lunch, like some sort of game; however, they were merely doing it for the fun of it, perhaps mindless competition, or just the satisfaction of knowing they could, where as he was aiming with the sole objective to erase the contents of his memory bank. The way he'd woken up, the way he'd fallen asleep, the way he'd acted and been called out on the most embarrassing levels imaginable; and still been haphazardly drunk enough to have the guts to push Seto Kaiba up against a wall, to put his _hands_ on him, the audacity to ask if it _felt good_. Face burning, color depleting, embarrassed so insufferably he couldn't even bring himself to repeat the detailed version of what had taken place. The more than implicative, more lewdly phrased dialogue, the irreplaceable knowledge that Kaiba's anxiety-hand-holding-shenanigans were innocent and well intended, while his were anything but, explicitly becoming... _explicit_...or just more... _intimate_...he wasn't even sure which was worse at this point.

Unable to escape the instant replay, the fabric, the momentary warmth radiating from his upper thigh, the sheer excitement of having controlled the ebb and flow of a body he'd never gained the upper hand over in his life, even if for just those few seconds it had lasted, taking advantage of such a fucking perfect human specimen it was making his stomach turn. Nothing about his body had been remotely familiar, nowhere near the same as the vivacious curves of a woman; but taught, slender, and excitingly well defined, it had been arousing all the same. The lingering desire that left him fantasizing the reciprocation, the curiosity as to how those hands would have felt if they'd been put on him instead; imaginably more forceful, more dominating, the compelling shiver down his spinal cord that compelled him to cram four more faint yellow pills down his throat. Desperate to displace the admittance of desire that had no rightful place to exist in the first place, confusing their brief interactions for the one's he'd loved more than life itself, and lost more than a decade ago it seemed.

 _Harpie Lady_ card finding its way guiltily into the palm of his hand, fingers tracing the edges, the image of the caricature, the deceased lover he felt like he was betraying by moving on. Onto something that wasn't even real, onto the worst possible human being he'd ever met in his life, **_that's_** _who I chose to replace her_. He held the card to his chest, feeling his eyes welling up for the first time in what seemed like weeks. The way this selfish projection of feelings he felt he'd thrusted onto Kaiba so unfairly only making him miss her all over again. Turning onto his side and wrapping the length of his arms around his pillow, bringing it into him and squeezing tightly, as if that would be enough to bring her back. As if the inanimate object could possibly offer the same warmth of a real, living, breathing human being; secretly hoping it might replace the actual body he'd found himself falling asleep against two nights in a row. The rising panic that even that could disappear, the fact it probably would. The last thing Kaiba needed, let alone _wanted_ , was a clingy, incapable, emotionally lost mess like him, but Kaiba was steadily becoming the only thing Joey wanted, needed, and was absolutely terrified of losing. His own motives so blurred and blended and beyond recognition, remembering their days were numbered.

How many were left exactly? Had it been two days or three? He couldn't seem to keep track, having been too drunk off atmosphere and elixirs and irrecoverable sentiments of what was able to exist only in an entirely alternate world. The fact that, regardless, he only had between four or five left before the deal they'd struck was done. _If I'm lucky enough to live after the shit I pulled last night_ , thoughts wandering back to the fact Kaiba had briefly allowed his invasiveness to invade what would have once quite literally cost him his head. The brunette having been drunk enough to even formally submit the verbal confirmation it had indeed felt good, that _Joey_ had made him feel good. _Oh god_ , he felt his stomach starting to summersault, _he's going to kill me where I stand next time I see him. He's going to skin me alive or string me up atop a street lamp and leave me for dead_ , paranoia increasing at an alarming rate, _that's not the sort of boundary you can just cross without expecting to arouse some repercussions._

Fumbling with the three or four smashed together cigarettes he'd managed to conserve throughout the night, nervously lighting one and sucking harshly, the scent of the other's cologne conjuring faintly beneath his nose. Somehow having forgotten he was still clad in Seto Kaiba's clothes, frantically beginning to lift the shirt up and overhead, chucking it across the room, kicking off the pants, and laying back in his boxers, having already decided there wasn't a chance in any of the seven hells he could see him again today. Probably wouldn't even be able to look him in the face, Sam either, Sam especially, she meant well, but she would just make it worse at this point. Her playful comments that followed him like the plague, _hungry eyes, ravish away,_ how he hated the power of female observation sometimes. The spot on way of reading him not so reassuring anymore, the realization he was back to being entirely alone even less reassuring than that. Knowing full well he couldn't face the likes of either of them, whether collectively or individually, something was bound to backfire.

" _FUCK_ ," he cursed loudly in his native tongue, _what the hell is_ ** _wrong_** _with you?_ he asked himself, _do you have a death wish? Or am I really that fucking stupid I can't think before I let my words pour out like a leaky faucet?_ — _drip, drip, drop_ — _never seeming like any substantial amount until you finally get the bill._ Realizing how quickly those little slip ups added up, how expensive it was when left uncorrected for an extended period of time. Heart escalating in a calm, almost indifferent sort of anxiety that Joey was unable to distinguish between discomfort and numbness. Another cigarette lit, smoke drifting in misshapen masses lacking any grace, no beautifully overlapping sinews, no transfixing swirling, just this thick, suffocating smog. Walking over to his windowpane, noticing the frosted glass, wiping at it with his bare forearm, taken aback by the sight of snow. This sinking feeling.

****◈⊰⦶⊱❄⊰⦶⊱◈** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd that's all she wrote. Hah, I am OFFICIALLY out of full-length, finished chapters. Currently working on chopping and screwing my prewritten scenes and plot progression together in my free time as we speak. Sorry this chapter was so short. Lol however that might've been sort of refreshing for a change.


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